You Never Forget Your First (Or In This Case Second)
by ShamelessHo
Summary: Future Fic (Canon & AU) "Damn it all if it wasn't all coming screaming back to him. Mickey f***ing Milkovich." Nine(ish) years on and everyone is getting on with their lives. Well... they were.
1. Prologue

This _**work of fiction** _is set approximately nine years after the end of season two, i.e. season three hasn't happened at all (Which makes writing it quite hard whilst watching!)

The original timeline is canon - with a few little additions from me - and everything after that is made up! (Or takes inspiration from cast information about upcoming episodes or from watching season three.

(Approximate ages for reference: Liam 10, Carl 19, Debbie 21, Ian 25, Lip 26, Fiona 30)

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, only my feels, my ideas and my OCs.

**Prologue**

A warm hand awoke him from his dream, shaking him. Well, he called it a dream, but it seemed more like a series of images and sounds all mashed together; tattooed knuckles running over his body, a dark head of hair between his legs, skin on skin, eyes looking up at him, all of it pervading his senses so that when he opened his eyes, for just a moment he didn't know where he was until he heard a voice, grounding him.

The hand gently shook his shoulder again. "Ian? Are you okay? You're all hot. Bad dream?" The hand ran down over his chest, then slowly, tentatively lower. Slight fingers found his half-hard cock. "Hmm." He heard the smile in the voice, "I guess it wasn't _all_ bad! What _were_ you dreaming about huh?"

Ian blinked a couple of times, and licked his lips to moisten them, before shuffling onto his side to face his wife.

"I can't really remember. Must've been a good one though." He smiled back at her in the darkness as she continued her ministrations, his cock hardening at her touch.

"Mmm. I can tell." Vicki asked, still stroking, "You want me to carry on?"

Ian glanced back over his shoulder at the brightly glowing clock beside the bed. 2.17am. "You've got to be up in three hours," he pointed out.

Vicki groaned, a mixture of agreement and disappointment, but she took her hand away anyway. "Ugh. You're right. You're always right. Rain check." She leaned over him and kissed his chest, his neck, then his lips, and he returned her kiss, before she turned away onto her side and made herself comfortable.

Ian rolled onto his back again, and tried to organise his thoughts. What the hell had made those images – no, those _memories_ - come flooding back into his brain tonight? He shut his eyes and those blue ones appeared again, hooded, blown pupils, full of lust. Ian's lids snapped back open in shock, but he couldn't stop his hand drifting down to his now fully hard cock. Those eyes. He'd not forgotten them, how could he? He'd just pushed them to the back of his mind along with everything else when he'd moved away. Moved on.

No, you never forgot your first. Well, okay your second. And damn it all if it wasn't all coming screaming back to him.

Mickey fucking Milkovich.


	2. Chapter 2

Ian had been in school when he'd first known Mickey Milkovich. Typical school bully. Or maybe not typical because _most_ bullies don't tend to have access to guns. Ian never really had any particular trouble with the Milkovich family because his older brother, Lip was a brain and did most of Mickey's homework for him, which got the Gallaghers a bit of a free pass.

Apart from a slight misunderstanding with Mickey's sister Mandy, the only time they'd ever really come across each other was when Mickey would come into the store where Ian worked after school and steal whatever he could get his grubby little mitts on. He wouldn't even try to hide it. And nobody really attempted to stop him, except one day when Mickey was so blatant about it that Ian just _had_ to say something. Something about having some civic pride. That had gone over _really_ well. It resulted in Ian having dip thrown at him and being told to where to look if he had a problem. (Mickey had told him later that it was basically an invite, that he _wanted_ Ian to come to his house, but didn't think he'd have the stones. That was pretty much how it all started.)

But Ian hadn't thought about that, or Mickey, in a long time. Nine years long. A lot had happened in his life since then. He'd upped his academic game enough to get into West Point, then made it into the army as he'd always wanted. Then a tour of duty in Afghanistan from which he hadn't been sure whether he was going to get back. Then just like that, the war ended and he was home.

And then there was Vicki. She had appeared in his life sometime between joining the army and leaving for active duty. She'd been a friend of the girlfriend of Nick, one of his army buddies. They'd met one night when they'd all been on leave and had been out for drinks. Vicki was confident, she made him laugh and at the end of the night she offered to be his person at home to keep in contact with while he was away, keep him connected with home if his family were busy - which they were. Ian had gratefully accepted and that's how it started.

She'd simply been a good friend in the beginning. She'd sent texts, keeping him up to date on what was going on back home. Then they'd started talking on Skype whenever they were able and he remembered laughing and chatting a lot. One unseasonably warm night in Chicago, he had made a joke that Vicki was stripping off in front of him as she kept removing layers to get comfortable. Her reply had been "I can if you want." And so she did and they ended up having webcam sex, which sounded seedy but wasn't and then then happened at the end of almost every conversation after that. And somewhere along the way, they'd fallen in love. But he'd never mentioned Mickey to her. Or his past.

When he'd come home, his family had thrown a party for him. Well, Fiona and Jimmy brought alcohol and Kev brought weed. It was an interesting night, but he didn't drink or smoke anything. Lip commented that he seemed a bit "out of it" and asked what was wrong. And it was then that Ian realised he missed Vicki. He hadn't told anyone about her yet and she hadn't sought out his family whilst he'd been away either. Not because he didn't want anyone to know, just because he liked having someone to himself for a while.

And mostly because he figured Lip would give him hell after all the crap that had gone on, first with Kash and then Mickey, then with the doctor. To end up with a woman after all of that? He thought Lip would never let him live it down.

As it happened though, all his fears were completely unjustified. They met up with Debbie first, because Ian could always count on Deb to give her honest opinion. She was instantly enamoured with Vicki. The girls went shopping and Vicki couldn't help but love Deb. When they got back from the trip, Vicki demanded to meet the rest of the Gallagher clan and so she did. They met, everyone loved her and they were all pretty angry that Ian had not introduced her sooner.

Returning home from Afghanistan, Ian found he was not as traumatised as he thought he ought to be to be considering some of the things he'd seen, although the army-appointed therapist said that war affected everyone differently (and being a Gallagher he'd probably seen worse shit anyway. Lip said that – not the therapist) He decided Vicki had been some sort of constant for him and he suspected it was her that had kept him feeling so settled the whole time. He proposed to her after a year of being back, not wanting to rush it so it looked like a soldier making a snap decision, but they got married fairly quickly after that.

It was a pretty small wedding. His family had all turned up - except not Monica because she was in some psych ward somewhere _again_ and not Carl because he was doing a stint in juvie for vandalising a cop car – and Vicki's mom and sister had come too. It was good. They drank. Frank was a drunken idiot, but they were all used to it. There was a reception in The Alibi Room for old times' sake, and somehow Frank had even managed to make a great speech about the Gallaghers always being there for each other and that now that meant they were there for Vicki too. Right before he fell off the chair he was standing on and broke his collar bone.

Then they got in their car and they moved the fuck out of the South Side. They had a pretty good life now too. Vicki was a nurse and Ian was working some menial labour jobs. The pay wasn't exactly great, but it helped with the bills and kept him fit. Things were good.

So why now? Why was his subconscious putting him through this now?

He looked over at his wife. She was snoring softly. He rolled away onto his side and closed his eyes again, but he couldn't sleep yet. Something was still nagging him. The only sure-fire way to sleep now was to make himself come, but he was confused as to what he should be thinking about while he did it, so he tried to shut off his brain while he stroked himself as hard as he dare without disturbing the bedcovers.

It didn't take long. And he tried to ignore the quick flash that popped into his head of him bending Mickey Milkovich over the back of his old couch. Eyes squeezed tight shut, he bit his lip, let out a stifled grunt and came into his hand.

What the fuck?


	3. Chapter 3

Vicki left for work the next morning, Ian got up, pulled on a pair of jeans and poured himself coffee from the machine. He wasn't particularly keen on it, but had started drinking it for the caffeine hit. A cup of coffee and a cigarette was normally all he needed to get him started in the morning, but today his feet were dragging.

He wasn't scheduled to work today. Usually he would call in anyway to see if there was anything he could help out with, but the rest of his night's sleep had been fitful and he was feeling lethargic to say the least. He wouldn't be any good to anybody today.

He wanted to call Fiona. Not just wanted to - needed to. This whole thing was consuming his thoughts and he thought the familiarity of her voice might help to settle him.

He waited until what he thought it was an appropriate time to call, smoking too many cigarettes while he paced around, then he picked up the phone and dialled.

He soon realised he hadn't left it long enough. It rang for a long time. That amount of time when you're not sure whether you should hang up or whether it's got to the point where if you _did _hang up, the person on the other end wants to kill you anyway. Fiona finally answered with a groggy and pissed off "What?"

"Fiona?" His voice sounded rough from the chain smoking. That and the fact that he hadn't actually spoken yet today. He cleared his throat. "Hi Fiona it's me."

There was some shuffling around at the end of the line. Ian waited, and he could almost picture her pushing her eye-mask up on top of her head. He wondered if she still still had the old "Fuck Off" one. Then Fiona came back on. "Ian? You okay? What's happening? Is Vicki alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Everyone's fine. Just thought I'd give you a call. It's been a long time since I talked to you." He peered at his watch. 7.35am. "Oh, shit, Fi. Did I wake you? You still working nights?"

"You did but it's okay. Let me just... let me get my head on straight." Fiona yawned. He heard bed springs creaking as she moved. "You're right though, you shit! It _has_been a while. Why haven't you called me?"

"I'm know, I know. I'm sorry." he replied, contrite. "How are you? How's Jimmy? And Liam and Carl?"

"We're good. Jimmy's really good thanks. Carl's Carl, you know. He's still a terrorist but just bigger now! And Liam's great too. He's actually not a little fuck up! Can you believe it?" she started laughing.

Ian put on a mock-shocked tone, "Hey! Are you implying that the rest of us _are_?"

"Ha! Nah. But come on. I can't have been the only one that was always wondering how he would turn out, given all the shit that kept going on around him?"

"Don't be ridiculous. You did an amazing job with him Fi. With all of us. How could he not turn out great?"

Ian heard Fiona's smile, "Yeah, he really _is _doing great. His grades are fantastic. He's like a mini Lip. Only without the attitude. And less smoking."

"I don't believe he doesn't have the attitude. Hey. how _is_ Lip?" Ian asked. "I haven't heard from _him_ for ages either."

"Jesus, okay, you two seriously need to get your butts over here and see us all. So Lip and Reese are having a baby. Lip's over the fucking moon! I can't believe he hasn't called you? He's just non-stop talking about it at the moment. Like it's the only thing that's happening in his world. And at least this time it's going to have a happy ending. Not like.. well not like..."

Fiona trailed off and Ian knew they were both thinking about the _other_ time there was a baby in Lip's life. That really hadn't turned out well. Ian idly wondered what had happened to Karen.

"So," he changed the subject, "what else is new?"

"Well I'm still working lates at the club. I'm practically running the place now. I don't think they'd know what to do without me if I'm honest."

"_That_ I can believe." Ian smiled fondly. He knew that feeling very well. There had been many a time in the Gallaghers' lives when they wouldn't have been able to manage without Fiona. Why should a nightclub be any different? She was essential personel.

"And let's see. What else? Kev and V's girls are beautiful. You knew they adopted right?" When Ian murmured his assent, Fiona continued, "they're growing up really fast. Kev's so protective of them though. He went for little Andy from two doors down the other day just because he came to return a soccer ball that had ended up in his yard. Who knows what Kev thought he was going to do. God help those girls when they're older!"

Ian laughed. Kev had always been protective of his family. Particularly V. He missed them too.

"Oh and the latest thing is the Kash 'n' Grab burned down last week," Fiona went on.

It was just a little bit of local news to Fiona, but _that_ got Ian's attention. "Wait. What?"

Fiona sounded as if she was walking around now, and the phone was on loudspeaker. "Yeah. Burned to the ground. Cops locked Terry Milkovich up for it. He's going away for a long time I reckon too. Mandy said he violated his parole again."

Ian was suddenly silent, his brain working overtime. so was this it? Was this what had literally stirred up the ghosts of his past? Almost all of his encounters with Mickey had occurred in that stupid mini-mart and now Mickey's father had set fire to it. He must have been quiet for a long time, because Fiona's voice shook him out of his reverie.

"Ian? You still there?"

"Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking. I'm surprised that place was even still open after all this time."

Fiona snorted. "You're kidding, right? Nothing changes around here. I think Mickey was even still working security, last I heard."

Hearing his sister say Mickey's name made Ian's heart beat faster. As if before she'd mentioned him, he didn't really exist anymore, but now, he was really real and still out there. Still in South Side and plaguing Ian through his dreams.

He let out a half-hearted chuckle, "Hehe. Yeah, same old same old."

Fiona coughed. "Anyway, so we're having a barbecue next weekend for Deb's birthday. Are you two gonna come? You know she'd love to see you both. We all would. Everyone's gonna be there."

"Yeah, we're definitely overdue a visit. I'll talk to Vicki, get her to check her shifts. We'll be there."

"Good. And don't forget you owe me forty bucks for her gift. Call me in the week. I'm going back to bed. Love you." Fiona blew a kiss down the phone at her brother.

"I love you too, Fi," Ian said and then he hung up.


	4. Chapter 4

The week running up to Debbie's birthday barbecue passed mostly without incident. There weren't any more "dreams" to speak of and, apart from getting a copy of the paper to read about it – from which he didn't learn anything more than what Fiona had told him, except there was a brief line about a security guard losing his job – Ian didn't hear any more about the fire at the Kash 'n' Grab either.

According to Fiona, everyone was coming to the barbecue and, as it had been a long time since he had seen any of them, Ian was really looking forward to seeing everyone again.

Since moving away, he hadn't visited as much as he should have. The overwhelming urge he always had to stay away from the place was so strong. It wasn't his family that gave him those feelings, it was more a general sense of unease whenever he got too close to the zip code. Bad memories most likely. Well not all of them were bad, but certainly things hadn't always been great.

Regardless though, he knew he should have gone back more. He had missed most of the major events in Carl's and Liam's lives so far. He had managed to make it out for Debbie's graduation, which was an amazing day. Everyone was so proud and she looked a million dollars, standing up there beaming in her cap and gown, but now, when he thought about her still living in the same neighbourhood, albeit in her own flat, about to turn 21, he couldn't help but wonder why she hadn't moved away, done something more with her life and her degree.

Anyway, it wasn't his place to try and change them and he had always said he wouldn't. He loved them, no matter what.

It turned out that Vicki had to work the night shift before the barbecue. She had tried to get it changed, but with no luck so she wouldn't be able to go with Ian, although she did promise to try and make her way over after she had slept. There was a brief moment when Ian had considered backing out of going, because he didn't know if he'd make it through the day by himself, but then he remembered this was family and he was being a stupid fuck.

So after breakfast on the Saturday morning, he kissed Vicki goodbye. She barely moved, just a cursory mumble before she turned over in bed, then he shucked on a t-shirt and jeans and made his way back downstairs. He grabbed his keys from the table by the door and looked at himself in the mirror above it.

"Here we go," he said to his reflection and headed out the door.

The first person to greet him at his old house which, from the outside at least, still looked completely unchanged in the year since he had last visited, was Jimmy.

"Hey man!" Jimmy walked out towards him with his hand outstretched, "how are you?"

Ian smiled and shook Jimmy's hand. "I'm good thanks. Good. How are you? Where is everyone?"

"Fiona's inside making salad or, I don't know, buttering rolls or something. Carl and Liam are around somewhere. Debbie's coming over in about," he glanced at his watch, "a half an hour and V and Kev and the girls are in the yard firing up the grill."

Ian glanced at Jimmy's watch then too. A Rolex. Probably the last remainder of Jimmy's family money.

Ian looked back up at Jimmy who was taking a swig of a beer and heading back towards the house. A brief recollection of the doctor came over Ian and he shuddered. This was another reason why he didn't come around so often. Every time he saw Jimmy he was reminded of the time he found out Jimmy's dad was gay, or "fucked anything that walked" might have been the expression that he used, and that Ian had to tell Fiona and Jimmy. He knew that could have torn them apart, except when Lloyd gave Jimmy his ultimatum: the Gallaghers or his inheritance, Jimmy chose Fiona and walked away without so much as a backwards glance.

Ian still regretted that Jimmy had had to make that decision though. It wasn't Ian's place to "out" Lloyd, and he didn't want anyone to get hurt but he knew someone would. He figured the way he did it was the best way. Still he often wondered if Jimmy resented him for it.

Luckily, a squeal from the direction of the yard distracted him right at that moment. Looking around he saw V trying to catch hold of two identical little girls who were running around her legs in circles, then he saw Kev swoop in and grab one in each arm, hoisting them up in the air, all of them laughing.

It was such a lovely little scene that he couldn't help but laugh out loud. V turned to look and, when she spotted him, ran over and threw her arms around him.

"Ian! It's so great to see you! Your sister see you yet? She's gonna tan your pasty white ass for not coming to see her before now!"

"Ha, I know. Bad brother right?" He smiled at them, and slapped Kev's hand when it was offered. "So, these your girls?"

V beamed up at them, "Yeah. This is Layla and this is Alicia."

As she named them, she gestured to them each in turn, and each one smiled a big, wide grin down at Ian from where they wobbled in Kev's arms. Ian realised that aside from where one of them - Layla he thought - had a missing tooth in the front, he wouldn't be able to tell them apart, unless they were smiling at him.

"Ladies." He saluted at them, and they giggled.

Kev lowered them gently to the ground, "Hey, go help your Aunt FiFi with the salads."

Ian sniggered at the nickname, especially coming from Kev, who despite getting older, really hadn't changed at all. V swiped him across the back of the head, which was no mean feat given their height difference.

"Hey, don't you laugh at that. They picked that name themselves and Fiona _loves_ it. In fact, go and ask her yourself." She started pushing him towards the house, and he stumbled forwards, following the girls who were holding hands and skipping.

"Sorry V. It just sounded so... unexpected coming from Kev that's all!"

Before he even made it through the back door into the house, he could hear the somewhat reassuring sounds of Fiona yelling up the stairs at his brothers. His lips turned up at the memories of how she would always bawl at them but it was never borne out of anything but love and maybe frustration.

As he made it inside, almost tripping over the girls, he wasn't surprised to see Fiona speeding around the kitchen trying to do too much all at once, whilst chivvying the family along.

"CARL! Would you get your butt down here? Your sister will be here any minute. Liam! Wash up and come and help me please!" Fiona bent down to greet the twin girls who had just bounded up to her and gave them each a basket of bread to carry outside. "Here you are sweeties. Can you take these outside to your Daddy for me?"

"Hey _Fifi!_"

Fiona whirled around at the sound of Ian's voice, "Do _not_ call me that," she warned, pointing a finger at him. Then she laughed and moved over to him. She was still holding a bowl of half-tossed salad in one hand, but she slung her other arm around Ian and pulled him into a hug, or maybe more of a squeeze. "I've missed you."

As she pulled away, she pointed at the fridge. "Beer's in there. Help yourself. Jimmy went overboard as Deb's turning 21."

"Thanks." Ian grabbed a beer and twisted the cap off. "Hey. Where's Lip?"

"Lip's not coming." Fiona said matter-of-factly, as she continued busying herself in the kitchen. "He called this morning with some bullshit excuse. I can't even remember what it was, it was that bad."

Ian suddenly felt a huge wave of disappointment. He had really been hoping to see Lip, and to meet Reese who he had heard so much about from everyone else, but not from his brother. They always used to be so close, and then they started to drift apart during all the Karen Jackson mess and then, when it would have been a great time to put things right, Ian had been called away.

There had been drunk "I love you, man!"s at Ian's wedding and the odd phone call, but nothing really substantial. They didn't spend time together like before and Ian really missed it. He thought today would have been a good time to start rectifying it, so finding out that Lip had decided not to come on the actual day, and now wondering what the reason was too, was preying on Ian's mind.

"You okay?" Fiona interrupted his thoughts.

"Yeah. Just... shame Lip's not coming. Be nice to meet Reese."

"Well you can always go and visit them while you're here. Now go and make yourself useful. Deb'll be here any time." She gave him a gentle shove towards the door, just as Carl and Liam came thundering down the stairs.

"Ian!" Carl's voice was deeper every time he spoke, but he still looked like that little reprobate kid that cooked his fish in the microwave. Just taller.

The brothers gave each other a quick back pat/hug and then Ian gave Liam a high five.

"Come on guys," he said "come and fill me in on what's been going on."

And they all headed outside.


	5. Chapter 5

The barbecue ended up being a lot of fun. Debbie arrived shortly after they'd all gone outside and Ian was truly amazed at how tall she'd gotten since he had last seen her. And, as weird as it was to say about his sister, she was really beautiful now. But still the same Deb really. She turned up in jean shorts, her red hair in pigtails and she still just looked like his little sister. Her sense of humour was completely unchanged too. She was as deadpan as ever. Everyone had clubbed together to pay for plane tickets to New York for her birthday gift and they'd all laughed when Deb opened them and said "what, no iPhone?".

They all had plenty to drink and a ton of food. Layla and Alicia did a little dance show for Deb, apparently to the strains of Justin Bieber's "Boyfriend" - V was mortified. "I cannot believe I had to help my girls choreograph that damn routine to that Justin Timberlake wannabe. What is he, eight?"

Ian didn't have a clue who Justin Bieber was, so he just nodded and laughed at V's outrage, but he wasn't laughing so hard when the twins made him jump rope and insisted that they turned the rope for him. Obviously they couldn't get it anywhere near high enough to go over him and he had had a bit too much to drink to be bothered to duck so he kept getting hit in the face with the rope, and then it was Kev and V's turn to laugh.

"That'll teach you!" Kev grinned at him.

There was cake which Fiona had made. Red velvet -Deb's favourite - decorated with white icing. Everyone sang happy birthday and Deb blew out candles but wouldn't tell anyone what she'd wished for, although she smiled knowingly around at everyone as if her wish had already come true having them all there.

They laughed and talked and shared memories, and nobody seemed to question why Lip wasn't there, even though it didn't seem right without him. It wasn't weird that Frank hadn't turned up, it was almost normal in fact, but without Lip, the party wasn't a party. But it seemed that only Ian was missing him. He guessed this was because everyone else saw Lip every day, but this was Deb's birthday. He should be here.

After one too many beers, when Ian realised he was far too drunk to go home, he resolved to go and see Lip in the morning. Well maybe in the afternoon. Whenever he woke up.

When he woke up was 7.30am. Almost on the dot. Far too early after a night on the booze. At first he thought it was just his internal clock messing him about for some reason, then he realised that Liam was messing about with something, taking it apart right in front of where he was sleeping on the couch and the banging and knocking sounds had penetrated his shallow, drunken sleep.

"Liam, what are you doing, man? It's so early." Ian spoke through his teeth as he tried to make his brain function.

His youngest brother didn't even look up as he replied, "Homework. Got to get this project finished for wood shop and I didn't get anything done yesterday so I'm doing it now. Not my fault you crashed out on the couch."

Ian raised his eyebrows. Wow, he really was like Lip.

"Okay, okay, I get the message. I'm getting up. But for the record, I hate you." he said, smiling, and heaved himself into a sitting position.

He regretted moving so quickly almost immediately, as his head got vertical and his brain rattled around inside his head, trying to right itself and leaving pain behind. He squeezed the heels of his hands into his eyes, clenching them shut, then stood up - slowly - and made his way to the kitchen.

The kitchen was empty, not a big surprise after a Gallagher party, but it was definitely different not having to step over Frank to pass between rooms. He searched around for a pack of cigarettes and finally found some behind the jars on the windowsill. No sign of a lighter though, so he had to light one using the stove that was an upgrade since he had last been here.

He sat down at the dining room table, pulling a half-drained can of beer towards him to use as a makeshift ashtray, and looked around as he slowly inhaled, the nicotine making him feel a little bit better. There had been a lot of memories in this house, some good, some bad, quite a lot of painful... even this dining table had witnessed some interesting times.

Unbidden, one of those memories suddenly nudged its way into Ian's pounding head, one of him pushing Mickey forcefully forward over the table - when the whole family had been out and they'd risked being in the Gallagher household just once - one hand holding the dark-haired boy's hip, the other on his shoulder, thrusting and grunting, Mickey's arms trying to find something to grab hold of, the table not giving the support he needed... a moan...

"Morning sunshine."

Ian dropped his cigarette guiltily as Fiona's voice popped into his consciousness, as if she could read his mind. "Shit!" He snatched it back up quickly, taking another drag in an attempt to steady himself.

Fiona gave him a quizzical look, "You okay? You looked miles away just then."

Ian was trying to re-focus his mind so he just nodded. "I... yeah. Just tired. And hungover, I guess."

His sister laughed and the noise reverberated in Ian's head. "Well if you will try to beat your brother at shots! You want some coffee?" She asked getting mugs from the cupboard.

Ian murmured a yes as he recalled Carl and a bottle of tequila. What the hell had he been thinking?

Fiona handed him a mug of coffee, "So," she continued, "What's going on with you? How's Vicki?"

"She's good," Ian replied, swallowing a big gulp, which burned his throat, but made him feel better. "She's really busy at work though. She was sorry to miss this." He gestured around him at the aftermath of the party.

"You said that yesterday, a lot." Fiona said, raising an eyebrow at him. "It almost sounded like you were making excuses for her not being here. Is everything okay with you two?"

Ian felt himself get hot. There were no real problems to speak of between him and Vicki, but all this Mickey stuff resurfacing out of the blue was unsettling him and he was feeling like he'd been distancing himself from his wife the past week. He hoped none of it showed on his face, but he knew how intuitive his sister could be.

"It's all fine. Never better."

"You're sure?" she reached her arm out and placed it on his, her eyes questioning him.

For a brief moment, Ian had the urge to tell her everything, just like he always had, but he changed his mind. "Honestly Fi. Everything's great."

Fiona seemed satisfied. "Good. So we're gonna be hearing the pitter-patter of tiny Gallaghers soon then?" She winked at him.

Ian spluttered out a mouthful of coffee by way of an answer, and changed the topic. "Erm, I think I'm gonna go and see Lip today. I missed him yesterday."

Fiona didn't press the subject any further. "It was a little weird without him, but we had fun right?" She moved towards the fridge, took a piece of paper from underneath a Cubs magnet and handed it to Ian. "Here."

Ian looked at the paper, which had Lip and Reese's address on it. "Thanks." he said, putting it in his pocket, "When's a good time to go do you think?"

"Well not this early! But they usually go and see Reese's parents on a Sunday, or at least she does, so you might want to go before lunch."

Ian checked his watch. 8.15am. This morning was going so slowly.

"Okay," he said, "you go round up the troops and I'll get started on breakfast."

At around 10.30am, after what might have been the rowdiest meal Ian had sat through in a long time - not that it wasn't fun - he said his goodbyes and this time promised to be back much sooner. The twins were practically hanging off his legs right up until the moment he got into the car, and he laughed as they saluted _him _this time.

He checked the address on the piece of paper Fiona had given him once more, then set off. It was about a fifteen minute drive from the Gallagher household, in a slightly better neighbourhood, but one that he hadn't been to before.

On his way out of town, he couldn't stop himself passing by the Kash n Grab, or what was left of it. It was a burnt out shell of a building now, the shape of the interior still discernible but probably only because Ian knew it so well. He tried not to think about time spent in the back room, or in amongst the shelves or in the loading bay, or that one time when someone had gotten away with shoplifting because Mickey was under the counter giving him a blowjob. (Mickey'd just laughed about it, but Ian had insisted on putting the money in the till because he didn't want Mickey to get in trouble and lose his job)

He never allowed himself to think about these things, but right now he couldn't stop himself. The memories were all right there in front of him and someone had taken a petrol can to them. Not just someone, the sick fucking Nazi supremesist father of the boy he made the memories with. There had to be a reason.

He tried to put it out of his mind for now though, as he pulled into the street where Lip now lived. He was anxious to see his older brother, to reconnect with him, to meet his girlfriend and see what she was like. They'd been through so much together in the past and to have barely spoken in so long was not normal and it just didn't feel right.

He found the house and pulled up alongside it on the street. There was no car in the driveway, a fact that didn't register with Ian even as he got to the front door. He knocked once and waited.

Nobody answered, but he thought he could hear movement inside, so he knocked again, harder this time. A voice inside made Ian's heart leap into his throat.

"Alright, I'm coming. Hold your fuckin' horses."

And even though Ian knew that voice, would recognise it in the middle of a crowded room with his eyes closed, he still couldn't believe what he was seeing when the door finally opened.


	6. Chapter 6

It was like a flashback, Mickey standing in front of Ian, in wifebeater and sweats, rubbing his eyes sleepily as if he'd just been disturbed.

"Gallagher?"

The familiarity of the scene threw Ian for a loop. He gaped.

"What the fuck are you doin' here?" Mickey pressed.

Ian's whole mouth felt dry, and his tongue shot out to moisten his lips. He noticed Mickey's eyes flicker towards the movement, and this made him suddenly, not wholly irrationally angry. He finally found his voice.

"What do you mean 'what am I doing here'? What the fuck are _you _doing here? In my brother's house?" He leaned forward and started to push the door open, looking past Mickey into the house.

"Your brother's not here," Mickey said, not sure whether to move out of the way or stop Ian from forcing his way inside.

Ian glared around the room he could see, "Well where is he? What the fuck is going on, Mickey?"

The sound of Mickey's name on Ian's lips seemed to stop them both short. Ian hadn't spoken it aloud in a long time and as he did so, his voice faltered ever so slightly. And at the same time, Mickey dropped his hold on the door, letting it fall open. Ian caught himself on the frame so as not to trip over the threshold.

"I guess you'd better come in." Mickey almost sighed, stepping away from the doorway and rubbing the corner of his mouth with his thumb - a gesture so familiar that it made Ian's head hurt. Some things really didn't change.

Ian stepped past Mickey into what appeared to be Lip's living room. It was pretty and neat - must be a woman's touch, Ian thought to himself, although there were beer cans sitting around and the smell of smoke lingered in the air.

"You want a beer?" Mickey asked.

Ian couldn't even look up. The last thoughts he'd had about Mickey were about them fucking, and the last real time they'd seen each other was too painful to even think about. To say he was confused was a bit of an understatement. He shook his head. "Could use a cigarette though."

Mickey pointed, "There's some on the table."

Ian took one from the packet and lit it, taking deep, slow drags. After a few moments, he lifted his head slightly, still not looking at Mickey's face, but instead focussing on the tattooed knuckles that were gripping a can at his eye level.

"U-UP"

He remembered seeing those letters in many places - roaming over his body, wrapped around his cock, and once, backwards, almost lovingly caressing his head as he licked and sucked Mickey's dick. Ian had been peering at their reflection in the shelves in the stockroom out of the corner of his eye. Mickey hadn't noticed. Mickey's eyes were shut, his head thrown back and...

Okay now was not the time for the trip down memory lane.

Closing his eyes, he asked, "So what's going on? Why are you here?"

Mickey cleared his throat. "Guess you heard about the store?"

Ian nodded and Mickey continued, "Linda was letting me live there. My dad kicked me out a while ago and I was staying in the flat upstairs. When he torched it, I didn't have any place to go, so Lip said I could stay here until I was sorted."

The silence that followed was palpable. Ian's mind was racing, wanting to know why Terry had kicked Mickey out in the first place, why he had torched the store, when Lip had become such good friends with Mickey that he would let a Milkovich stay at his house? And why, _why_ was he suddenly dreaming about Mickey again?

His thoughts were interrupted when Mickey murmured, "You look... good."

Mickey had spoken pretty quietly, but Ian had heard it. His head snapped up then, his eyes meeting Mickey's. They held each other's gaze for what felt like forever. Ian couldn't think of a single word to say. The last words he remembered Mickey Milkovich ever saying to him all that time ago were "you're nothing but a warm mouth to me" and they had felt like a knife to the gut. Now he felt sick.

He stood up suddenly, his hangover beating him over the head, making him feel dizzy. "I... I've gotta go. Tell Lip I stopped by." And he pushed past Mickey and out of the door. He got to his car and drove, only stopping when he got around the corner because tears were actually stinging his eyes and he couldn't see where he was going.

He pulled over, put his head on the steering wheel and choked out a sob. He knew he looked pathetic, but damn it, it felt good to get it out. Then he let out a loud "Fuck!" in the empty car, banging the dashboard with his fist. He wiped the tears away with the back of his hand and set off back to South Side.

**_Mickey POV_**

_Mickey stared at the open door that Ian had bolted through minutes before. He knew he should close it, but somehow he couldn't make his feet move, he was still in a state of shock, seeing his ex… what? Lover? Boyfriend? Fuck buddy? His ex-Gallagher standing in front of him after all this time._

_Lip hadn't said anything about his brother being in town or else Mickey would have made himself scarce or, shit, at least he would have known not to answer the fuckin' door. Talk about a slap in the face. For both of them._

_Rubbing both his hands over his face, Mickey shook himself out of his daze. It was just shock, he thought to himself as he kicked the door shut. He hadn't seen Gallagher for a long time, true - apart from that photo of him and Lip laughing that was up on the wall outside the bathroom which made something hurt in his chest every time he saw it, so he tried not to look at at any more - but obviously that went both ways. Ian looked just as stunned to see him too and clearly hadn't known anything about these living arrangements._

_Mickey certainly hadn't wanted the first time they saw each other in nine years to have gone down that way. Still, what the hell was he expecting? It _had_ been nine years. Mickey had broken them apart, run away to juvie and they'd never seen each other again. And the next thing he'd heard, Ian was marrying some woman - a _woman? _What the fuck?_ -_ while Mickey was still stuck in the same rut as always. Same job, same house, same asshole father. Same old, same old. Just no Ian._

_Sure he had been getting laid pretty regular, but not by anyone who mattered. Never by anyone that cared. And he couldn't pretend that he wasn't imagining it was Gallagher behind him every time - one of the advantages of being a bottom. But nine years - yeah. A long fuckin' time to dwell on the past, especially when you didn't think you'd ever see it again. At least not suddenly in front of you with no warning._

_While Lip and Reese were out, Mickey decided now would be a good time to raid Lip's private stash of weed. Lip had already pre-rolled some blunts, thank fuck, so Mickey took two, sat on the couch where Ian had been sitting, lit one and inhaled long and deep. He tried not to think about how angry Ian had looked to see him, or his face just before he left, or the fact that Mickey could still smell his cologne._

_Yes, he would get high. And then maybe it wouldn't worry him so much that he was not only confused, but fuckin' _happy_ that Ian Gallagher had suddenly come back into his life._


	7. Chapter 7

Ian barged in the front door of his old home, throwing it so wide it would have made a dent in the wall behind if there weren't already dents there from years of door-wall abuse, and then slammed it hard behind him. Long past upset, he had now moved onto angry. He had been ranting loudly and animatedly to himself the whole journey home - "What the hell is he doing there?" "What was Lip thinking?" "How the fuck am I supposed to get on with my life now?" - along with wild arm gestures which must have made him look like a crazy person.

"FIONA?!" he yelled out, trying to ascertain her whereabouts in the house.

"SHUT UP!" came a return yell from Carl upstairs.

Ian ignored him as he moved through the living room, but quickly swallowed the diatribe he had ready to spew out when Vicki came from the kitchen towards him, smiling.

"Hi sweetie," she said as she reached him, leaning up to kiss him.

He kissed her back quickly and forced a smile, "Hey! What are you doing here?"

"I said I was going to come by, remember? They let me finish my shift an hour early so I went straight to bed, and then came here as soon as I got up. Fiona was just filling me in about the about the party," she nodded backwards towards the kitchen, "sounds like I missed some fun!"

"Yeah. Yes, it was good. What I can remember." Ian pointed at his head, indicating his hangover.

Vicki laughed, then took his hand and led him towards the kitchen. "Well we've got some sandwiches out, if you're hungry."

Ian sat down at the table, opposite Fiona and Vicki slid into the seat next to him, running her hand up his thigh as she sat down. He picked up a ham sandwich from the plate in front of him and took a bite, but his mouth was so dry it tasted like sawdust.

As he got up to get a beer from the fridge - kill or cure - Fiona piped up, "How was Lip?"

Ian paused, one hand clenched too tight on the fridge handle, his knuckles turning white as he remembered Mickey greeting him at Lip's door.

"Ian?" Fiona asked again.

"He wasn't there. I must've just missed them. You want a beer?" he said, attempting to steer them away from the subject.

However, Fiona didn't answer, instead getting up and picking up her phone from the counter top before walking over and taking the bottle from Ian's hand. She twisted the cap off and took a swig, then started pressing buttons on her phone.

Ian sighed, and turned to take another beer from the fridge. Then he heard Fiona's voice again.

"Lip, it's me. Can you call me when you get this please? And I mean _as soon as_ you get it this time. Thank you!"

She hung up the phone. "I'll see if I can get them to come by after they've been to Reese's parents' this afternoon," she said.

Ian was glaring over the top of his bottle by this point. He wanted, no _needed_ to know what was going on.

Fiona must have sensed something was up, because she turned to Vicki at that moment and said, "Hey! Did you meet Kev and V's girls yet? They said you had to stop by as soon as you arrived. No time like the present, huh?"

Vicki stood up, and let herself be led towards the door. "Oh yes! I haven't met them yet, but I'm dying to! You coming, Ian?"

"You go on," he gestured with his bottle, "I'll be over in a bit. Not sure if my head can take any more Justin Beaver for a bit."

Fiona walked Vicki over to the Ball house and then returned alone. She was barely back through the door, when she let out an "Okay buddy. What the hell is going on?"

Ian had been pacing the room, and now he stopped. He pointed a finger at Fiona, "why don't _you_ tell _me _what's going on?"

Fiona slapped his hand away, "What the fuck are you talking about? You left to see your brother. You came home with a face like thunder, even though you said he wasn't there. How the hell would _I_ know what was going on?! What is the problem here, Ian?"

"I ran into Mickey fucking Milkovich there, _that's _my problem!" Ian all but yelled.

"At Lip's place?" Fiona asked, confused.

"YES at Lip's place. Don't tell me you didn't know!"

"Didn't know _what? _He was _living _there?!" She asked a little more insistently.

Ian was more ranting to himself at this point though, "So this is why Lip 'suddenly' couldn't come yesterday? It all makes perfect sense now." He started pacing again.

Fiona took a step towards him, tried to get him to stop moving. "Ian. IAN!" But he wouldn't stop pacing for even a moment so she ploughed on, "What do you mean 'it makes perfect sense'? What… does Mickey have to do with Lip not coming here? Ian STOP!"

Fiona reached out to make him stay where he was, but she needn't have bothered. Ian had already stopped mid-stride and was staring at his sister in disbelief. Is it really possible that Fiona didn't know about him and Mickey? She'd known that Ian was gay, he'd told her that himself – and even then she'd already known. How had she not worked out the rest?

The only person that Ian had ever told about Mickey was Lip. Kash had caught them having sex once, but he was long gone now, and Frank had seen them going at it too, but he didn't even care, despite Mickey's protestations to the contrary. And Mickey of course, but he'd rather die than admit anything happened between them. Hell, he violated his probation just to get _away_ from Ian.

So there was really only Lip. Ian couldn't believe that in nine years, Lip had never shared his little secret with Fiona. Or that somehow Fiona didn't know. Maybe now was the right time to tell her.

He huffed out a sigh. "Okay, you'd better just sit down."

Fiona looked worried, "Ian _what_ is going _on_?"

"Just… sit down. I'll explain, okay?"

Fiona took a seat at the dining table again. Ian didn't sit. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly through pursed lips.

Then he started. "I'm willing to bet that the reason Lip didn't come yesterday is because he didn't want to explain to me that Mickey Milkovich is living at his house."

"But why would-" Fiona started to interrupt.

Ian held a hand up, asking her to wait as he continued "Because he knows that I would have a problem with it," he took a deep breath, "since I used to sleep with Mickey. A lot."

He stopped talking, and took a seat, but he didn't dare risk a look at his sister. This was the one thing he had kept from her and he was pretty sure she was going to be pissed about it.

The silence stretched on for what felt like about an hour, before he heard Fiona's chair scrape along the kitchen floor as she pushed it back. He glanced at her. She was standing up, hands on hips, looking down at him with something like incredulity on her face.

"You were sleeping with Mickey Milkovich?" she asked, taking a step toward him. Her voice was scarily controlled.

He nodded, standing up quickly.

"For how long?"

Ian swallowed. "Um. On and off… almost a year and a half."

Fiona swiped him around the back of the head, hard. "And you didn't think it was _important_ to tell me this? That you were fucking around with that… that batshit crazy fucking Milkovich boy?! Even when his dad nearly fucking _killed_ you over Mandy? _Jesus_ Ian! What the hell were you _thinking?_"

"It wasn't like that, Fi!" Ian insisted, backing into the kitchen work surface as Fiona kept inching towards him, clearly fuming, "I _couldn't_ tell you!" he almost shouted, "I was in love with him!"

Fiona stopped in her tracks. "You were _what?!_"

Ian lowered his voice, and said again, "I was in love with him. He obviously never felt the same about me though. Went to juvie twice to get away from me."

Fiona ran her hands through her hair. "I can't believe this. Why didn't you _tell_ me any of this?"

"Because I didn't want you to hate me? To react like you are doing? I know what everyone thought of the Milkoviches. What would you have thought of me if I told you I was in love with one of them?" He raised his eyebrows at her, questioning, "And you had your own stuff going on, you didn't need me piling my shit on top of it too. Then Monica was home and fucking stuff up. Twice! It was never the right time. And then Frank caught us fucking, Mickey threatened to kill him because he was scared Frank would tell his dad, then he told me I meant nothing to him and the next I knew he was back in jail. I never saw him again. It wasn't important."

"Oh Ian." Fiona sighed and moved to hug him, "Of _course_ it was important."

Ian leaned his head on his sister's shoulder, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall from the relief at finally telling her.

Fiona suddenly pulled back and looked Ian in the face. "Is this why you started that thing with Jimmy's dad? Because of Mickey?"

"It was part of it, I guess," Ian concurred, "Mickey hurt me when he left. I just needed to feel… wanted. But I had _no_ idea it was Jimmy's dad. You do believe me, right?"

"I do." Fiona pulled Ian back into the hug, "Wow. Who'd have thought it eh? You and Mickey."

They both froze with shock in each others' arms when they heard a quiet voice from the doorway.

"Who's Mickey?"


	8. Chapter 8

As he was facing the door and Vicki, Ian tried not to show the fear that was coursing through him at that moment. Fiona slowly pulled out of the hug, her eyes flitting from side to side as her mind raced to think of something to say, neither of them sure of how much Vicki had heard and what reasoning she would accept.

She gave Ian's arms a reassuring squeeze before she turned, smiling, towards his wife.

Ian leant back against the counter, his head lowered, not daring to look up whilst Fiona basically made up some story to Vicki.

"Hey Vicki! We were just reminiscing about high school. We were talking about the time when someone broke in and stole the school mascot from the principal's office, did Ian tell you?" She didn't wait for Vicki to answer before continuing, "Anyway, it turned out it was Ian and Mickey that did it which, if you'd seen how Mickey Milkovich used to pick on Ian, it was a _really_ unlikely pairing!"

Ian smirked at the reality of Fiona's last sentence, which was sort of lucky, because Vicki's eyes flitted over to him at this point. It was probably just to back up what Fiona was saying, and even though it was a ridiculous tale made up on the spot, he hoped his smirk had confirmed it.

Vicki looked quickly between Ian and Fiona, then walked, almost in slow motion, towards Ian. "Milkovich? I feel as I've heard the name somewhere."

"His dad burned down the local store a few weeks ago. Terry Milkovich?" Fiona piped up, "He's pretty well known for being… well a pretty sick son-of-a-bitch. Maybe that's why it rings a bell?"

"Yes, maybe. Does sound familiar," Vicki nodded, glancing at Fiona before turning her attention back to Ian, "You've never mentioned Mickey before." It wasn't a question.

Ian felt a knot in his stomach as he lied, "Nothing much to talk about really. We never had much interaction apart from that time with Principal Monroe." He tacked on a little laugh as if he was recalling the incident.

Fiona's phone suddenly started to ring with some annoying tone that Carl had downloaded onto it for her, but right at this moment, nobody seemed to mind it. Fiona and Ian were _definitely_ thankful for the interruption.

"Lip," she mouthed at Ian once she saw who was calling, before answering, "Hey! What's going on?"

There were pauses for Lip's side of the conversation, during which Ian kept his gaze on Fiona, but could feel Vicki eyeing him.

"Yeah, he's still here. When are you coming over? Why not? Lip! Okay, just tell Reese to get better okay? And Lip? I really think you need to call him." Fiona hung up the phone, then sighed, "He's not coming. Reese isn't feeling too good apparently."

"Oh no! I hope she's alright." Vicki said sincerely, unaware of what was going on.

"I'm sure she's fine," Fiona reassured her, rubbing her arm and eyeing Ian knowingly over her shoulder.

Ian suddenly felt sick again. His brother was clearly avoiding him.

"I think we need to go. You've got a double tomorrow, don't you Vic?" he said, "Plus my head is properly pounding now." He let another little fake laugh, trying to make light.

Vicki moved to give Fiona a hug, "He's right. As always. Thank you so much for lunch. Sorry we weren't here longer." She pulled her into a tight hug, "You come to us next time?"

"For sure," Fiona smiled, then moved over to her brother and put her arms around his shoulders, reaching up, "When did you get so tall?"

Ian laughed, "I haven't grown in about eight years, Fi." And he squeezed her, trying not to react when Fiona whispered in his ear, "I know there's more to this. You tell me when you're ready."

He kissed her cheek, took Vicki's hand and they made their way to the car.

"That was nice," Vicki said, once they were on their way. "Wish we could've stayed longer, but I am _exhausted._ I'm going to take a nap once we're home and then can we maybe just watch a movie and make out before we go to bed?"

Ian smiled, "Sounds perfect." But he didn't take his eyes from the road and he wasn't sure if he meant it.

They _had_ watched a movie, like Vicki had suggested, although there had been no making out, because Vicki had cuddled up to him and about a quarter of the way into the movie she had fallen asleep.

After about twenty minutes of watching somebody - he seemed to recall Ryan Gosling - driving around a lot, he had edged out from next to her, placed a pillow under her head and covered her with a blanket. Then he had fetched a beer and swallowed it quickly whilst not concentrating on the screen. One soon turned into two and he had switched his mind off as best he could.

By the time the movie had finished, he had downed five beers and had a good buzz. He wasn't thinking about anything like Mickey's mouth or his hands, or the fact that his own brother wasn't speaking to him. He had gently scooped his wife off the sofa, carried her upstairs and laid her on the bed, managed to get off the majority of both of their clothes before he fell into bed too. He had been about to close his eyes when he had heard her stretch and moan next to him. He turned towards her and found she was sleepily smiling at him, inviting him to touch her.

He had kissed her gently, and Vicki had pushed into the kiss, her tongue running over his lips and slipping into his mouth. She had pressed her small frame against his body, and of course his cock hardened as their groins met and she rolled her hips. She ran her hands down over his back onto his ass and pulled him in towards her even more, deepening their kiss even more until he had to pull back for breath.

He had known she would want to make love; that he _should_ make love with her – it felt like it had been ages. So he'd taken hold of her waist and pulled her on top of him as he rolled onto his back. He'd looked up at her face, but couldn't make his eyes focus because of the beers that were dulling his senses. His heart hadn't felt as though it was in it and he really hated that he'd just wanted to do it quickly. He knew how to make her come and get himself off in the shortest time in this position, so he had helped her lower herself onto his hard cock, groaning at the feel of her, and grabbed her hips, thrusting up into her as she ground down on him.

It hadn't taken long for either of them, as she rode him furiously, her head thrown back as she orgasmed. He had followed suit almost straight away, and had felt a pang of guilt when Vicki kissed his stomach, before padding to the bathroom to clean up.

He had mentally kicked himself for being so selfish and, after wiping himself off with some tissue from the bedside cabinet, had thanked the alcohol still in his system for helping him fall quickly to sleep. Not a good sleep, but a deep, dreamless sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

By some miracle Ian didn't have a hangover the next morning; although he was sure he deserved it. It was pretty early when he woke up, so he took a long shower and had eggs and bacon for breakfast - he stomach felt strangely empty - with two cups of coffee and a cigarette to follow. He had high hopes that maybe this Monday was going to turn out okay.

Vicki had started work at 5am and was working a double shift, and he was working eight hours, loading and driving forklifts and putting pallets onto trucks in a warehouse almost an hour's drive from where they lived. For anyone else it might be monotonous, but Ian liked the repetition. It was almost like OCD for him.

And today it had the added bonus of him not seeing Vicki. And he didn't really want to see her - oh there was the guilt again - because he just couldn't be sure if she had heard more of what he and Fiona had been saying or whether she had more questions. He was just generally feeling uneasy. And that was something that was making him really angry about all of this. It was getting to the point that he didn't want to be around his own wife.

But the day did pass quickly and without incident. Unless seeing someone from the back with short dark hair and then driving the forklift truck into a tower of pallets counted as an incident. There wasn't any damage, which was fortunate because the pay check wasn't that huge to begin with, so Ian wasn't counting it.

He took himself home afterwards, declining the guys' offer to go for a drink, made himself a sandwich, and watched some of the news. His eyelids were drooping almost as soon as he switched on the TV though, and feeling completely worn out, he climbed into bed only about 12 hours after he had climbed out of it.

It was the same as any other morning really, quite bright and sunny outside for October in Chicago - warm enough to go without a jacket, but not so warm that you could do without an extra layer.

They'd both gotten to work early enough for Mickey to give Ian a quick hand job - "Because it'll make you last longer later, that's all. Don't go thinking you're fuckin' special or nothin'", which Ian knew Mickey was only part joking about, because Mickey wanted it hard and he wanted it fast, but he liked it to last, – and in plenty of time for Ian to get cleaned up and cashed in before their shift started.

It was only about an hour into the day though, with not even remotely what anyone would call a steady stream of customers, that they both began to get antsy. Finally, after one woman came into to do her "weekly grocery shop" which consisted of a carton of half and half, a box of donuts, a pack of cigarettes and a cucumber, Ian looked over at Mickey, exasperated.

Mickey's expression as he watched the woman leave was very much 'what the fuck is she going to do with that cucumber?', his left eyebrow raised in bemusement, then as his eyes lighted on Ian's face, it was quickly followed by "how fast can we get in that store room?"

Ian was clearly of the same mind, as he grasped for a paper bag and scribbled 'Back in 5 mins' on it. He passed it and a roll of duct tape to Mickey, who stuck it to the front door then locked it behind him, turning back towards Ian with hooded eyelids and a smug, lascivious grin on his face. Mickey bit his bearded lip and walked past him towards the back room.

Ian still hadn't really gotten used to the facial hair Mickey had grown. It made him look so different. Older somehow. As if before he'd felt like they were really just the same age, but with the scruff, Ian definitely felt as if he was fucking someone older than him - despite the height difference, and Mickey's tendency to act childishly. Aside from that, he imagined the only difference facial hair would make would be how it felt on _his_ skin if they were kissing. Which they were not.

He pushed the thought aside and made his way to the back of the store, to find Mickey with his pants already off, lounging against some of the stock shelves, palming himself through his graying boxers. He still had his socks on though. Mickey never really made much of an effort.

Ian had already been half hard as he'd been writing the note for the door, in anticipation of what was coming. Now his cock was straining at the tight denim of his jeans as he approached Mickey. He licked his lips, pulling open his fly and shucking off the lower portion of his clothes as quickly as he could. Socks too.

"Come on then, Firecrotch. We haven't got all fuckin' day." Mickey smirked, pushing his boxers down and away too.

Ian feigned angriness at the nickname, even though after all this time he'd grown to love it because he knew Mickey used it as a term of endearment. He pushed Mickey forcefully back against the shelves, a little worried that it might cause Mickey pain and also sort of not, because he knew Mickey liked it when he was rough, and Mickey lifted his leg up onto a lower shelf to allow Ian more access.

"Come on, get _in_ me." Mickey growled out through gritted teeth.

Ian grinned, "Be patient, Mick." Then, never taking his eyes from Mickey's face, he put his own finger into his mouth, licking it and getting it wet.

Mickey's eyes were glued to Ian's finger, pupils blown from the minute it entered his mouth until it disappeared from view between them.

Ian smiled his little lopsided smile as he slowly, torturously slowly pushed his finger inside Mickey, the smile disappearing as Mickey pushed against it, a low growl escaping from him. Ian didn't need to do much preparation though. Mickey was ready. Mickey was _always_ ready, but Ian liked this part, if only just to see Mickey getting frustrated because he didn't have his cock inside him yet.

"Fuck patience, Gallagher. Come _on._"

Ian wanted to argue, but he really couldn't. He pulled out his finger, pretending to ignore Mickey's grunt of disappointment, and quickly slipped on a condom. It felt good just rolling it onto his cock, it was so sensitive already. When he was lubed and ready, he lined himself up and started to ease in. The feeling for Ian was exquisite, made even more so watching Mickey's eyes roll back in his head until his eyelids closed over the whites.

The angle wasn't quite right though, so Ian pinned Mickey harder to the shelves with his forearm and lifted his other leg up over his shoulder, pushing his cock inside even deeper on every thrust.

Mickey never made any _deliberate _noise when they were fucking, apart from gasps of breath and the occasional words of, well Ian liked to call it encouragement, but mostly they were orders. Even when he came, it was more of a muted grunt than actually expressing what he was feeling – not like Ian who swore and moaned until the moment had passed - but Ian could tell Mickey was enjoying himself from his slack-jawed expression and the way he was fingers were gripping almost painfully at Ian's waist.

Ian, on the other hand, was grunting and moaning from the exertion, breathing hard and thrusting again and again. He could feel his orgasm building up, his stomach was getting into a knot and sweat was dripping from his forehead onto Mickey's vest as he watched Mickey work his own cock hard.

He was just about to bite down on Mickey's shoulder when they both sprang up startled, knocking several things from the shelves, Ian still buried deep inside Mickey, not really knowing what the hell to do as they heard Frank's voice from behind them.

"Hello boys. Front door was locked so I came in the back. No pun intended."

They disengaged and pulled on their clothes as quickly as they could, whilst Frank took a bunch of things from the shelves and even had the audacity to steal money from the register, rambling something about his tab.

At Frank's parting words, Ian could feel Mickey's eyes on him, but he couldn't make eye contact yet. He really didn't want to acknowledge the fact that he'd allowed them to get caught _again_.

As Mickey paced up and down, Ian couldn't help but compare this to the time Kash had caught them almost a year before. So much had changed since then. Aside from the fact that he'd forgotten to lock the back door _again – _shit. For a start, Mickey was now _willingly_ facing him every time they had sex – that was a pretty big deal, especially after the fuss he made the first time Ian had pinned him down and _made _him do it that way round – and secondly, Mickey hadn't bolted out the door the minute he heard Frank's voice. Still, any hopes Ian had of Mickey not overreacting were quashed the instant Mickey opened his mouth.

"We gotta kill him."

Despite Ian's attempts to reason with him, Mickey was determined. The rest of that day and even into the next seemed to pass by in a blur of trying to find Mickey who was apparently on a rampage around town with his brothers and had been everywhere except to maybe talk it through with Ian.

In the end, Ian gave up searching. He went to bed, but barely slept. It was a long night of tossing and turning. So many times he was tempted to get a hold of Lip and go find Mickey. But Lip had his own stuff going on so he just laid there and figured when no phone call came to say that Frank was hurt or missing or anything, Mickey hadn't found him.

The next morning he got up, showered, and went in search of Frank at Sheila's house to try to convince him not to say anything to anyone about what he had seen. He found a drunk and high, of course, Frank and discovered that actually he didn't give a shit who Ian was fucking, which was… good. But he still couldn't convince Frank how serious the situation was.

So he headed back to work and waited for Mickey to come to him. When Mickey finally came back to the store, the expression on his face was light years away from the one that Ian had put there only 24 hours before.

"Where the fuck is he?"

"I don't know!"

"BULLSHIT! You warned him."

"I hate him more than you do."

Ian watched as Mickey took cash from the register, saying it was what he was owed, that he was quitting. The he said four words that made Ian's chest tighten.

"I'm done. Done. Done." As Mickey said the words, he gestured at the store and then at Ian, indicating that he was done with the job and the fucking.

Immediately, Ian went into defense mode. He couldn't let Mickey just walk away. Fuck it. No. "We got nothing to be ashamed of."

"What fuckin' world do you live in?"

"You can't… I don't want you to…" Ian stuttered. What was he going to say? Don't want you to what? Kill Frank? Go back to juvie? Leave me? Tell me you don't love me? Break my fucking heart? All of the above and so much more?

"Done is done. You're nothing but a warm mouth to me." There was more, but those were the last words Ian actually _heard_ Mickey say before he turned and pushed open the door to the store that it nearly banged off its hinges.

Ian's stomach twisted into a knot. Well, at least he hadn't cried in front of him. But wait. What right did Mickey have to just say these things to him and expect him to take it? It was always Mickey calling the fucking shots. It was about time things changed.

Determined now, and angry too, Ian took a step toward the door. Mandy suddenly came barreling through it towards him, "Ian? What's going on? Where's Mickey going now? Are you okay?" She put a hand on his arm.

"Not now Mandy, okay?" he said, shrugging her hand away and pushing past her out of the store.

He looked down the street, watching Mickey striding away from him, and made up his mind. This time he needed to say something, to have the last word, "Hey! Mickey? You don't get to be the one who decides when it's done. _I _say when it's done. And you know what?" Mickey didn't turn around, or even break stride, "YOU KNOW WHAT? FUCK YOU MICKEY. Fuck you."

Mandy appeared almost instantly by his side again, and placed her hand on his cheek. "Ian?"

"Get _off_ me," he growled at her, trying to pry her hand away.

"Ian?" Mandy asked again, moving both her hands to his shoulders and shaking him now, "Ian?"

And then, just as sometimes a camera flash in a dream is really lightning in reality, Ian was starting to realize it wasn't Mandy calling his name. As he slowly began to wake up, he heard Vicki's voice seeping into his consciousness, her hands shaking him. It was her he was pushing away. He risked a peek through the slits of his eyes and saw her above him, her face concerned, angry, confused, so many emotions on one set of features.

He knew he couldn't stay 'asleep' any longer – as a nurse, Vicki would either know he was faking or think he was having some kind of seizure.

Maybe he _was_ having some kind of seizure. That had all felt so real, even though none of that last part had actually happened.

He had never wanted Mickey to just leave like that. It had made him feel so fucking angry and it had literally broken his heart at the same time, but he hadn't had the balls to stop Mickey from going, even though he felt like he had been the brave one the whole way through their relationship. At least yelling at him had made him feel a little bit better if only in the dream.

He opened his eyes, and Vicki finally stopped shaking him. "Ian? Are you okay?"

"I… I think so." He answered groggily.

"Good. So, " Vicki sat back on her heels, "Mickey?"

Ian shuffled himself back until he was resting against the headboard, "Huh?"

"You were shouting about Mickey."

There was a split second when Ian thought it was a good idea to lie again. "No, no. You must have heard me wrong. I was shouting 'Vicki'", he ventured.

There was a large sigh. "Look Ian. One way or another, we've got a problem here. Either you _were _saying my name, which I hope not, because why would you be saying "fuck you Vicki, get the hell off me"? Or there's this Mickey person who obviously means or meant a lot more to you than you're letting on to me because you won't tell me anything lately and you've lied to my face twice in two days." She stopped to take a breath, closing her eyes for a moment. "And I know it's the second one."

Ian rubbed his hands over his face. This was a seriously huge moment in his life. He was unprepared for it and he could feel he was about to fuck up everything.

"Just tell me Ian. What's going on?"

He looked at her. Just stared at her for what felt like the longest time. He looked into her brown eyes and saw how they'd softened. He wondered if he'd ever really loved her or if it was more an infatuation with someone who was just the best friend he'd ever had since Mandy. He thought about all the things she'd done for him. How she'd been there for him through so many things. He remembered how wonderful she'd been over the years, how beautiful she'd looked on their wedding day, how she'd just accepted the craziness that was his family without even blinking and how he'd felt when they'd all loved her too. Yes, he had loved her. He still did. And now he couldn't look at her without thinking how he'd crush her if he told her the truth.

Of course, this train of thought took mere seconds. He lowered his eyes, and spoke quietly. "I don't know."


	10. Chapter 10

"Just start at the beginning. Tell me who he is? Or was. Something. Just…. Jesus Ian. Tell me _something_?" Vicki crossed her legs in front of him, and Ian sat up a little straighter in the bed.

He ran his hands vigorously over his face, trying to shake off the haze of sleep. _Was_ this actually happening or was he – hopefully – still dreaming? He lowered his hands slowly and peered at Vicki.

She raised her eyebrows, "_IAN!"_

Ian backed up as far as he could against the headboard, and hugged his knees towards his chest defensively. His mouth felt dry, but he knew he couldn't stall any more. He licked his lips and started talking.

"I used to be gay."

Immediately he knew that had come out wrong, but he couldn't seem to say anything else right at that second.

Vicki was, predictably, incredulous, "What the hell do you mean you _used_ to be gay? What…?"

"No, no. That's not what I meant. I mean… God this is so fucking _hard._" Ian squeezed his hands on either side of his neck, trying to find the right words.

"Well you know what, Ian? I don't care _how_ hard it is. Right now, I think I need to know what the hell's going on with you, so just try to explain it. Please."

Vicki reached out and placed a hand on his knee. Ian stared at her small fingers for a few moments, then he looked at her, and started again.

"I don't mean I used to be gay. I mean… okay. It's a long story but to cut it short, when I was a teenager, I was never attracted to women. They just didn't appeal to me and I had no interest in them at all. In the 9th grade I was doing shifts before and after school at the local store in town, and I ended up sleeping with the owner."

"A guy?"

Ian cleared his throat, "Yeah. A guy. And then his wife caught us and-"

"He was _married!? _Jesus fucking Christ!_" _Vicki shook her head, her top lip curled up at the corner in disgust.

"Like I said, long story. She was blackmailing us so that she could have another baby."

Vicki could barely look at him. She closed her eyes for a long moment, then opened them and asked, "So this store owner, this isn't Mickey right? Because Fiona said you were at school together. Or was she lying too?"

Ian shook his head, swallowing as he spoke again, "No, this isn't Mickey. Mickey is… was… the local thug. Well one of a family of them. He used to come into the store and steal from us."

Vicki huffed and muttered "us" under her breath.

Ian continued, because he knew he had to get this all out now or he never would, "Anyway, one day he stole the gun that we kept at the store. I went to get it back from him and… well one thing led to another… and…"

"You fucked him." It wasn't a question.

"No actually he…" Ian began, then lowered his head, realizing Vicki really didn't need to know the intimate details, "Yeah. That's when it started with Mickey."

"So why is this Mickey such a big deal? Why are you saying his name in your sleep? Why are you and Fiona talking about him?"

Ian drew in a deep breath, wondering how much to tell his wife. "We were together for, almost two years before he broke it off. Apart from when he was in juvie."

"Oh! He really was quite the little reprobate then?" Vicki laughed, but there was no humor in it.

"He broke it off with me, and went back to prison, and then Monica took me out to get over him and I ended up seeing Jim- another guy for a short while. Kind of like a rebound thing really. And that's it. That's all there is to tell. So I guess what I meant when I said I used to be gay, was, I erm…"

"You're gay?" Vicki ventured.

"But then I met you, so I'm obviously not, am I?"

"Ian. You don't just _stop_ being gay. I mean, I'd like to _hope_ you haven't been faking it with me all these years, so presumably you're not a six on that Kinsey scale thing either but that doesn't mean you're not still attracted to men, does it? I mean, you're telling me that since you were, what, 15 you've been with three men and only one woman? Or are there more that you're not telling me about? What about in the army?"

"No!" Ian said, vehemently. "There wasn't anyone in the army."

"Oh really?" Vicki asked, a snide edge creeping into her voice, "All those cute guys in uniforms? I'm not sure _I'd_ have been able to resist."

"What… what are you doing?" Ian asked, suddenly unsure of what was happening.

"I suppose I'm trying to figure out whether I'm just a… I can't think of the word off the top of my head right now… one of those women gay guys keep around so that people don't realize they're playing for the other side."

"A _beard?" _Ian was shocked.

Vicki nodded, "Yeah, that's the one. A beard."

Ian jumped off the bed suddenly, knocking several things from the bedside table, "That's what you think you are? You really think I would do that to you? That I'd _marry_ you just to hide my sexuality?"

Vicki stood up too, "I don't know, Ian. You seem to have lied to me about everything else. How can I believe anything you say?"

"Because I'm telling you the truth!"

Pulling herself up to her full height, which wasn't great compared to her husband's towering form, Vicki's voice was dangerously quiet as she spoke her next words.

"You must take me for a complete fool, Ian Gallagher. I've known you through some of the worst times of your life so far. I've seen your face when you've talked about losing your friends in the war. I know what heartbreak looks like on you. It's like a great big flashing sign that says 'I'm dying inside' and you're wearing it right now. And I _know_ that it's not about me, and I can't figure out why, suddenly, now. And that's the worst part. You're not heartbroken about me."

* * *

Ian had had absolutely no response for Vicki. He couldn't admit to her that she was right. He was devastated that he was hurting her, and that she believed that he had been_ pretending_ to love her all this time, which was definitely not true – he knew that now – but he couldn't lie to himself that seeing Mickey again had dredged up all the old feelings of regret and loss and yes, she was right, heartbreak. But he couldn't face telling her that, and he was damned sure he wasn't going to lie to her again, so he'd just hung his head and turned away.

And now, somehow, here he was in this bar, the name of which he couldn't remember, knocking back tequila like it was some sort of magical medicine. He'd asked the bartender to just keep setting them up until he said stop, or until he passed out, whichever came first.

The sad thing was, the tequila wasn't really helping. It was dulling the ache a little, but as with most alcohol, it was also increasing his desire to do something really stupid. Unfortunately, except for paying Mickey a late night visit, which he actually really didn't want to do right at this moment, he couldn't think of anything stupid to do.

In the end, he settled for ringing Lip. He'd been wanting to do it for ages, and figured now was as good a time as any. He was enraged and fuelled up with Patrón.

Digging in his pocket for his cell phone with one hand, he threw back another shot with the other, for courage he told himself, and then scrolled through his contacts for his brother's number, which luckily he'd had the foresight to add. Although he may as well delete it after this, for all the use it was getting.

The phone rang eight times before the answer machine kicked in. It was a woman's voice, presumably Reese.

_"Hi! We're not available right now, so please leave us a message and we'll get back to you."_

Ian could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke. She sounded sweet, and he still couldn't believe he hadn't met her yet. He felt as if he were going to taint her somehow by leaving his angry, most likely slurring voice right after her lilting, happy one, but it had to be done.

"Lip it's me. Your _brother_ in case you've forgotten. And yes I'm drunk, but you don't give a rat's ass, right? I'm really tired, Lip. These past few weeks have been complete fuckers. And at the end of everything I just wanted to talk to you about it, but you've been nowhere. No-fucking-where. So if you ever decide you might want to talk to me, I only want to know one thing. What could _possibly_ have happened that made you choose Mickey fucking Milkovich over me, man? Just tell me that."

He heaved a huge sigh, and then added, "I miss you." before hanging up the phone.


	11. Chapter 11

**_Mickey POV _**

_Mickey still wasn't sure whether this was a good plan. If he'd just answered the phone at Lip's place, maybe he wouldn't be here now, but he hadn't managed to get to it in time, and when the machine had kicked in, Mickey felt a tug._

_Maybe If they'd actually spoken, and Ian had told him to go fuck himself, then things would have been different, but they hadn't and something_ _about Ian's inebriated slurring coming through the speaker made Mickey want – no_ need _– to go out and find him._

_It was only really a lucky break that Lip had caller ID and even then, at first Mickey thought maybe he'd gotten the wrong place because he couldn't see Ian anywhere._

_He stood still for a moment and, letting his eyes adjust to the dank, dark atmosphere, he scanned the room. Still no sign. He was just wondering if perhaps Ian was in the bathroom and that he was _not_ going to search for him in there, when two people moved away from the bar and Mickey spotted him. Slumped on a stool, arms folded on the bar, head resting face-down on them._

_Mickey pushed past a couple of tables, and made his way into the space that the people had left._

_"Can I get a beer here please?" he gestured to the bartender, who nodded in response. He noticed Ian's head shift ever so slightly, but nothing more._

_"Hey Gallagher." He attempted to get Ian's attention, but no response was forthcoming, so he tried again, mock-punching Ian's shoulder as he spoke, "Gallagher, I'm fuckin' talkin' to you."_

_Without actually lifting it, Ian turned his head to the left and opened one bloodshot and unfocussed eye. Then he started to laugh. Mirthless laughing._

_"Jesus fucking Christ. I passed out in the bar. New low, Ian. New low."_

Passed out? Did he think he was dreaming?_ Mickey made a mental note to find out what that was all about later._

_He gave him another gentle shove, and tried to get Ian to move, "Get up Gallagher."_

_Ian lifted his head then, and looked at Mickey. He stopped laughing. "How did you find me?"_

_Mickey shrugged. He figured Ian was probably too far gone for the intricacies of caller ID right now. "You're wasted."_

_"So? You used to like me wasted."_

_Even after all these years, even in his drunken state, Ian still blushed when he said something so forward. Mickey had missed it. And also wondered _why _he was being like this now._

_"What's going on Gallagher?"_

_Ian sat up then, swaying slightly on the stool, "STOP. Just. Stop calling me fucking Gallagher okay? We're not in high school. Why can't you just call me by my name?"_

_Mickey took a swig from his bottle, swallowed hard. "Fine. What the fuck ever. _Ian_. What's. Going. On?" He spoke slowly to emphasise his point. He wasn't quite sure why he was being such an asshole. Maybe because he thought Ian expected it even after all this time. Same old same old, right?_

_Ian spun around on the chair to face him. "Did you ever care about me?"_

_Mickey spluttered his beer. "What!?"_

_"You knew I loved _you_ right? That's why you kept leaving me. That's why you emotionally fucking knifed me and fucked off to juvie. Because you knew I loved _you_ and… what? You didn't like it? You _did_ like it? You didn't want to admit that you liked it? That you felt the same? What was it Mickey? Because I tried for a long time" he drunkenly stretched the word 'long', "to figure it out. And it can't have just been about your dad."_

_There was a brief pause when Mickey could feel himself gaping open-mouthed at his former lover. It hadn't even occurred to him what a very public place they were in, only the words that Ian was spouting._

_"You know, you never _actually_ denied it." Ian pointed at him before turning sadly back towards the bar and picking up the full shot of tequila that was sitting in front of him._

_"Don't you think maybe you've had enough?" Mickey moved in to stop him, their skin brushing for the smallest of moments, making Mickey remember how Ian used to touch him, run his hands over his arms, push him down by the back of the neck, grab his ass cheeks…_

_Ian flicked his hand away now though, unfortunately whilst still holding the shot, Tequila spilling down the front of Mickey's shirt. Mickey wiped at it ineffectively._

_ "No. I don't. And you know what?" Ian spat bitterly, "This time you _don't_ get to tell me when I'm done, Mickey." And he gestured for another shot._

_The words hit Mickey like a punch. One he wished Ian had given him all those years ago, when he'd actually said them himself. He had never forgotten the look on Ian's face when he'd said "done is done." He hadn't even meant it, but then the words were out and he was a Milkovich for fuck's sake, he couldn't take them back._

_ But shit was going down and it was all getting too intense and Ian would _not_ believe him about his dad. Terry Milkovich was a sick SOB and he would kill him if he found out. He tried to tell Ian and he _didn't_ want to listen._

_And it wasn't any different now. Sure, his brothers had done all the usual laughing, name-calling and all that shit when he finally admitted he "wasn't really all that into pussy", but at the end of the day, they were all in the same boat. They had all suffered from the alcohol-fuelled rages of their father for some reason or another, and they knew what he'd done to Mandy too. They'd all said the same. "You're our brother, Mick. We got your back."_

_But his dad was a different story. Even almost ten years later his dad had tried to kill him. Tried to burn the fucking store down with him _in_ it. Because he found a guy's underpants and a used condom in the trash. His brothers had unfortunately _not_ had his back that day, through no fault of their own and Terry hadn't even stopped to ask questions._

_Mickey remembered the fury in his dad's face, "You a fuckin' faggot, son?" and him unthinkingly shouting back, "Took you long enough to figure it out!" But then it was in the back of his mind that his dad _must_ have known, because that underwear could have been anyone's in a house with four guys living in it. And a used condom? Same difference. But his dad just went straight to "faggot" and kicked him out of the house. That was that._

_Mickey had actually been amazed he hadn't been beaten to death there and then. That he'd gotten away somehow. But the day the Kash n Grab burned down, with him still sleeping inside, he knew why. Terry Milkovich's son was gay, and his solution was to get rid. All that time ago, Ian had said they had nothing to be ashamed of - and the irony was, all Mickey had felt for the last nine years _was_ shame._

_Ian's eyes. He'd do anything for a do-over so he never had to see that expression in his eyes again._

_Mickey started to open his mouth, to say something, _anything_ to try and make it right, when someone pushed past him, suddenly flanking Ian's other side. A woman._

_"Ian? Oh my god. Look at the state of you. Okay. We need to get you home."_

_Mickey immediately knew this must be Ian's wife. They'd never met, but it was obvious from the way she put her arms around him, protectively. He watched as she tried to heave Ian upright, not sure whether he should offer to help._

_She looked around, obviously in need of an extra pair of hands, but as their eyes met over Ian's slumped form, she narrowed hers at him suspiciously and his widened in shock. As the bartender made his way around the bar to help her, Mickey began to back away, needing, yet unable, to break eye contact. Luckily she looked away first as the bartender began to talk to her and Mickey turned and moved as fast as he could, out of the bar and down the street._

_Tears stinging his eyes, all he could think was,_ "This was a bad fuckin' idea."


	12. Chapter 12

A deep, rhythmic buzzing seeped into Ian's consciousness. His eyes felt as if they were swollen shut as he slowly came to. Too late, he realised it was his phone vibrating on the table next to the bed.

Swaying slightly, he reached towards it to see who had been calling and it started vibrating again. He grabbed the handset and tried focussing on the screen, just about making out the word "Lip" before dropping the phone on the floor and lapsing back into unconsciousness.

When Ian opened his eyes, the sun was streaming in through a gap in the curtains. He squinted away from it, making his brow furrow, which hurt his head. He tried to remember the last time he_ hadn't_ been drinking.

His phone buzzed once somewhere, and he looked towards where he thought it should be on the bedside table. After a moment, he was confused to find it on the floor, the screen reading

"4 missed calls. 1 new voicemail"

He leaned over and picked it up, trying to remember when he had missed any calls, then sagged back onto the bed, brain rattling back into place. He rubbed his hands over his face, and when he pulled them away, Vicki was standing in the bedroom doorway, with a mug of coffee in her hands.

"Oh. You're up." She didn't sound particularly pleased about it.

"What time is it?" Ian grimaced as he spoke, the words reverberating in his temples.

"A little after ten." She looked at the coffee in her hand, "I brought you this. A mug from a mug, I suppose." She set it down on the dresser by the door.

Ian sat up a bit. "Vicki! Don't-"

Vicki held up a hand to stop him talking. "I have to go to work." She started to leave, but as she reached the door, she spoke again, though she barely turned to look at him.

"I saw him, you know. _Mickey._" She almost spat the name, the disgust she felt evident in her voice. She did turn to look at Ian as she said, "Couldn't you at least have waited?"

And then she was gone.

Ian stared after her, open-mouthed. It was all coming back now, in waves. Like nausea. Oh no that actually was nausea. He ran to the bathroom and threw up until there was nothing left. Until he was just dry heaving into the bowl, throat sore and eyes watering, hugging the cold porcelain.

He'd forgotten Mickey was even there last night. Like a bad dream. He'd certainly not known that Vicki had seen him. He'd hoped their paths would never have to cross. Had they spoken? _He_ couldn't even remember speaking to Mickey.

Oh God. What the hell had happened?

Pulling himself up on the sink, he ran the cold water for a moment then stuck his mouth under the faucet and took a few gulps. It soothed his throat, and he splashed some on his face too.

As the water dripped from his chin, he remembered the missed calls he'd been about to check, which, after that conversation, he was now nervous to find out who they might be from.

He sat gingerly back down on the bed, dialled his voicemail and was surprised to hear his brother's voice through the speaker.

"Ian, it's me. I got your message. I... I don't want to do this over the phone okay? Can we meet? Text me. Or call me or whatever. Tell me where to meet you. Not Fiona's and not at mine. I wasn't... I haven't _chosen_... look. Fuck. Let's just talk. Just text me."

And then there was a click as Lip hung up.

_Ah._ Ian suddenly recalled._ The answer message. Shit._

An hour later, Ian was standing outside the Alibi Room. Mostly because it was central between his and Lip's houses, but also for old times' sake. Now, though, he could barely bring himself to step inside.

But he was already later than the time he'd told Lip in his text, so he took a deep breath, blew it out slowly and went in.

Wow, some things really didn't change. It still looked the same, the pool table in the same place, the TV on in the corner, the bums sitting in their usual places – although the bums themselves were different. Even the little green menus in their plastic holders on the tables were still the same. Ian glanced cautiously around, half-expecting to see Frank somewhere. No sign of him though, but no sign of Lip either.

He was deciding whether to sit down at the bar or leave, when he noticed Lip coming out of the restrooms, still pulling up his fly.

"Hello little brother." Lip said, smiling.

"Lip." Ian answered, not smiling back, but extending his hand.

Lip looked down at Ian's proffered hand for a moment, before taking it and shaking it once. "We on formalities now?" When Ian didn't answer, he made his way to the bar instead. "You want a beer?"

Ian pulled a face. "No. I'm hanging."

Lip clapped him on the back. "Come on! Hair of the dog." He gestured with two fingers to the bartender. "Two beers."

There was an awkward moment of silence, filled only by the sound of glasses being filled. Glancing in the mirrored back of the bar, Ian wondered why they had let things get to this point. And whether what he was about to find out was a part of it.

"So!" Lip started, cheerfully, "How's Vicki?"

"Cut the shit, Lip." Ian turned to face his brother. "You wanted to meet me. I want to know what the fuck is going on?"

Lip waited for the beers to arrive and took a great gulp from his glass. "Okay. I know. It's just. It's complicated."

"Well un-fucking-complicate it. What possible reason is there for Mickey to be staying with you right now?"

Lip was still not looking at Ian, so Ian watched him in the mirror as he spoke.

"Actually I guess, not that complicated. We've been sort of in touch since you left. We were sort of... well not friends, because who can be friends with a Milkovich? But we had a mutual interest in looking out for Mandy."

"Mandy? What does this have to do with her?!" Ian was confused.

Lip charged ahead, "Well, it doesn't. That's just how it started. I was sleeping with her-" Ian's eyes widened, but he didn't interrupt, so Lip continued. "and he wanted to make sure nothing bad happened to her. We just got... well we hung out I guess."

Ian was incredulous. "So what about _after_ Mandy? Wasn't he pissed when you stopped sleeping with her?"

Lip shook his head. "Once you moved on, Mandy didn't want to sleep with me anymore, so there wasn't any bad blood. Plus, Mickey's always been able to get a hold of stuff for me. And I pay him. He never stopped working at the Kash 'n' Grab - 'cept when he was in juvie - so he was always on hand."

Ian couldn't believe what he was hearing. "So he was – _is – _your dealer?!"

Lip turned his head ever so slightly and looked at his younger brother out of the side of his eye, "In... a manner of speaking. And then the store got torched and he needed somewhere to stay. I guess it made sense to have him close by." He took another swig.

"And you didn't think about me at any point in this scenario?" Ian bit out, anger twisting his voice.

"Jesus, Ian." Lip slammed his glass down on the bar so hard that beer slopped out over the top. "Not _everything_ is about you. _You_ were the one who fucked off with some woman. I assumed you and Mickey were done. I didn't know you still gave a shit. You barely even talk to me anymore."

Ian stood up, his bar stool tipping over behind him. Nobody turned to look though. Typical.

"_Some_ woman? You mean _MY WIFE?_ And for your information, Mickey 'fucked off', as you so delicately put it, long before I did. _He_ left _me_. I didn't ask him to go."

"And fucking off with some woman is how you deal with it? Running is just Mickey's default panic setting. I thought you loved him?"

Ian saw red. He didn't stop to think before he his fists were curled tight, knuckles white, and punched Lip in the face. Lip fell backwards off his chair, narrowly missing smacking his head on the table behind him.

"Hey!" The bartender was moving out towards them.

"Don't worry. I'm leaving." Ian reassured him, throwing a $10 bill on the bar before turning away from his brother and walking towards the door.

"Ian. Don't. Don't go like this." Lip was shouting through a now-blocked nose. "I'm sorry!"

Ian was shaking with anger though, as he stepped outside. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a tremendous drag, the nicotine coursing into his lungs making him feel better, albeit slightly dizzy on top of the hangover and the lack of food.

Once he was able to think clearer, he started to wonder whether he had punched Lip because of how he was talking about Vicki or because of the frank reminder that he'd not stopped to give Mickey a second, well third, chance.

He flexed his fingers and walked in the direction of God only knew where. He just had to think.

_Two weeks earlier – Mickey POV_

_Mickey took a deep breath and knocked on the door. He wasn't exactly looking forward to this. Milkoviches don't rely on other people, but fuck it. Where the hell else was he going to go?_

_He was expecting Lip, so when Reese answered the door, he wasn't quite sure what to do. He took the cigarette from his mouth and flicked it into the yard._

_"Oh, hey. Um. Is Lip home?" He inwardly cursed himself for sounded like a kid asking is friend was coming out to play._

_Reese was as pleasant as ever. Her happy smile almost made Mickey want to go and pick up his cigarette butt from guilt. What the hell?_

_"Hey Mickey. He's just out at the store. He'll be home any minute. Want to come in and wait?" Mickey had to breathe in to avoid her bump that stuck out as she stepped back to let him pass._

_He walked into their living room, and stood there like an idiot as she waddled gracelessly in behind him._

_"How are you?" she asked, smiling._

_His eyes kept drifting back to that fucking huge baby bump, "I'm okay. I... what about _you_?" He managed to look at her face then at least._

_Reese positively beamed. "We're great." She nonchalantly rubbed a hand across her belly and Mickey tried not to look again. "Tired, but that's to be expected I guess." _

_"Mickey. What are you doing here?" Lip interrupted them then, walking in with his arms full of grocery bags._

_Mickey hadn't even heard the front door. He stood up quickly though, glad of the distraction. "Lip. Hey man. I have to ask you a favour."_

_"I thought we were all done and dusted, Mickey?" Lip paused en route, looked confused, and slightly angry._

_"I know. But, you heard about the store right? I didn't know where else to go." The desperation in his voice made him angry, and he thumbed the corner of his mouth._

_Lip kicked open the door to the kitchen, raising his voice as he shouldered his way through it. "Yeah, I heard about it. And your old man. But I don't get why you're _here_?" He walked back into the living room carrying a can of beer, popping the tab._

_Mickey started pacing. He needed to calm down, and he didn't really want to start yelling in front of Reese, but Lip wasn't getting this._

_"So you heard. Did you know I was in there too? That my dad fucking burned the place down with me _in_ there? That he tried to fucking _kill_ me?" _

_Reese let out a gasp of shock and Lip sat down on the arm of the chair next to her._

_"What?! It didn't say any of that in the papers?" _

_Mickey shook his head incredulously. "Of course it didn't. He kicked me out of the house a couple of weeks ago because... well you know what for. I was sleeping at the store. Only Mandy and Linda knew I was there, but he must have found out. Probably forced Mandy to tell him. And now I can't go home, and I got nowhere else."_

_Lip put his can down. "Well, you can't stay here, Mickey."_

_"Come on, man. You fucking _owe_ me." Mickey didn't want to lose his cool and his last chance at somewhere to stay. He forced his feet to stay where they were even though every part of his body was trying to make a move towards Lip._

_Lip stood up though, and squared up to Mickey. "Hey fuck you! We don't owe you _anything_. We had a deal. And that deal is done."_

_Reese put a hand gently on Lip's arm and Mickey threw his palms up to placate him. _

_"No, no. You're right," Mickey mock-laughed. "It's not exactly like I can take it back either is it?"_

_After a moment he tried for less threatening and added, "Maybe we could change the terms a bit? I could give you some of the money back? Pay rent? Something? Please. Come on man, don't make me fucking beg."_

_Lip let out a sigh, deflated his chest a little. "It's not just up to me." He turned to look at Reese. Mickey looked at her – expectantly, hopefully - too._

_"What do you think, babe?" Lip asked._

_Reese glanced between the two men, then smiled. "I really don't think we can say no, can we? Not after what Mickey did." She got slowly to her feet, and moved towards Mickey. "We'll come up with something until you're sorted, okay? You can have the couch."_

_Not wanting to show how grateful he really was, but not knowing the proper thing to do in this situation, Mickey just nodded and muttered, "Thanks. Yeah, thank you," making a mental note to _really_ thank them later. Somehow._


	13. Chapter 13

Somehow, about an hour later, Ian ended up at Lip and Reese's place. He hadn't been paying attention to where he was headed, but here he was standing on their street.

The thought crossed his mind that this was what always used to happen. Whenever he was upset, or angry, or needed help, he used to run to wherever Mickey was and now, subconsciously, he'd done the exact same thing.

Maybe it was time to have this discussion with Mickey properly, once and for all, while sober. Get it out of the way and put things right. Or not. Whatever the situation may be.

As he reached the front door, he noticed it already starting to open. He felt momentarily dizzy, until he saw someone who definitely _wasn't_Mickey opening the front door. He almost dropped with relief where he stood when he saw a woman in the doorway.

Reese smiled at him. "Ian?"

When he nodded at her, she reached her arms out to him, beckoning with her fingers, and he almost fell gratefully into them. She squeezed him as tightly as she could with her baby bump between them, turning her body to the side to try and make it easier.

"Finally!" Reese murmured by Ian's ear and his eyes stung as he blinked back tears. "I thought I was never going to get to meet my baby's uncle."

"I'm sorry…" Ian started.

Reese started to shake her head, her bangs flicking Ian in the face. "No, no. Philip's been pretty stubborn about the whole thing to be honest. I kept asking him to call you and he kept saying he would, but then I guess he just never did. Anyway," she took his hand and started pulling him inside, "let's not do this on the doorstep."

Ian followed her into the house, peering around nervously as he stepped over the threshold.

"He's at work," Reese said, noticing him looking. "He came home from meeting you, grabbed his things and went straight out again without a word," she continued.

"Oh. I…" Ian's voice petered out. Reese didn't realise he was looking for Mickey then. Probably just as well. Althought he wasn't ready to see Lip again just yet either.

Reese looked at him for a long moment, taking him in, and smiled again. A full, beaming smile. Ian felt more than a little vulnerable under her gaze, but he gave her a grin back.

"You want something to drink?" she asked, gesturing over her shoulder at the kitchen.

Glad of the momentary distraction, Ian nodded. "That'd be great thanks."

Reese started to turn towards the kitchen, but then stopped, her hand going to the small of her back. Obviously in pain, she leaned back against her hand, puffing out a breath.

"You okay?" Ian asked, concerned. "You're not having the baby are you?"

Reese laughed, though her forehead was still creased as she concentrated on whatever was hurting. "No, just a twinge. Don't worry."

"Maybe you should sit? I'll get _you_ a drink?" Ian helped her to the couch. "What can I get you?"

"You are wonderful." Reese breathed, lowering herself onto the couch with his help. "I'm having raspberry leaf tea. The bags are by the stove top."

"Okay. I'll be right back. Just. Don't have a baby."

Reese laughed again, but it quickly turned into another gasp of pain. Ian kept glancing over his shoulder as he pushed the swing door to the kitchen.

A quick glance around and he found the kettle. He filled it up enough for one cup, set it boiling and put one of Reese's teabags in a clean mug from the drainer that he recognized as Lip's. It said "Got Wood?" on it. Lip had stolen it from a golf shop years ago because it had made him laugh. Ian was surprised it had survived this long.

He opened the refrigerator and took out a beer. He was about to twist off the cap when he thought better of it. Alcohol hadn't been his friend of late and he still wasn't feeling great from last night. Instead he searched the cupboards until he found a glass and went to fill it with water from the tap.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Ian's stomach lurched and he whirled so fast at the voice behind him that he lost his footing and careened into the countertop next to him. "Fuck!"

Ian hadn't even heard anyone come into the kitchen, and now Mickey was standing, looking at him curiously, one hand on the refrigerator door. He raised his eyebrows at Ian's curse, but the days of Mickey making any sort of innuendo were long gone.

"We have a filter. The water from the tap's like sewage if you don't boil it first." Mickey opened the fridge, took a beer with one hand and a jug of water with the other, which he held out towards Ian.

Ian simply stared at it, so Mickey set it down on the counter next to him. He nudged the fridge closed with his hip and twisted the cap off his bottle.

"Hey. It's your bowels, man," Mickey shrugged when Ian still made no move toward the water jug. He took a swig of his beer.

"So. Is this what we've been reduced to then?" Ian murmured, slowly raising his eyes to Mickey's face. Mickey lowered his bottle a fraction, eyes questioning Ian's.

"Meaningless small talk?" Ian continued.

Mickey wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he leaned back against the fridge, looking away. "Fucked if I know. I think you said pretty much everything last night."

Ian's eyes widened a fraction. "I don't really remember what I said last night."

Mickey turned his head to face Ian now as he spoke, "Yeah, well you were pretty wordy. But hey. I'm not sure your _wife_ would've been happy with me saying my piece in front of her."

Ian huffed out a humourless laugh. "You said your piece a long time ago, Mickey. You were _very_ clear about how you felt."

Mickey stood up straight then, turning his full body towards Ian and squaring his shoulders. He looked so determined, Ian actually tried to take a step back, but he couldn't so he just gripped the counter on either side, his knuckles whitening with the effort.

"For fuck's sake, Gall…. _Ian_," Mickey ground out Ian's name through clenched teeth. "For someone smart, you can be so _fuckin' dumb _sometimes."

They were interrupted then by Reese calling, "Everything alright?"

Ian shook himself out of his open-mouthed stupor and turned to the kettle. He poured the water into the mug, the scent of the fruit tea bringing him back to his senses, and he turned back to speak again, but Mickey had gone, as silently as he'd arrived.

Ian should his head in disbelief. He was almost starting to think he was imagining Mickey being around. He never seemed to be in the same place as anyone else. If it weren't for Vicki saying she'd seen him – and even she'd never _actually_ met him before so maybe she'd got it wrong too.

Maybe he was having a nervous breakdown, he thought to himself as he pushed the door back through to the living room.

"You find everything okay?" Reese asked, smiling up at him from where she was now reclining on the couch.

Ian nodded, taking a furtive glance around him in case Mickey was lingering. When there was no obvious sign. He put the mug of tea down on the coffee table in front of Reese. A bit like a turtle on its back, she started to rock herself forward trying to reach it.

"Oh god! Sorry!" Ian moved to pass it to her.

Laughing, Reese took the mug from him with both hands. "Don't apologize! It's just hard to get any momentum at the moment."

Ian smiled. It was hard not to around her, but as he did so, he noticed Reese was becoming more serious.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Are _you_?" she replied. "You seem so sad. What exactly did your brother do? You need me to kick his ass? 'Cause I will!"

Ian gave her a small grin, before he took a deep breath and let it out slowly through puffed cheeks. "It's a long story."

"Well, I'm not going anywhere," Reese said, serious again.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. He wasn't really sure where to start, but it felt like he could tell Reese everything and he would get an honest opinion and no judgement.

Almost as if she'd heard his thoughts, he heard her say, "You can trust me, Ian." And he started to talk.

Once the floodgates opened though, it all came spilling out. Literally all of it. Ian wasn't sure how much Lip would have told her about his own crap, so he made sure to keep the details purely about himself, so Reese listened as Ian told her about Kash. About Mickey and everything that went down before Mickey went to juvie – the second time. About Vicki and about everything that had suddenly started happening now. And finally, about having his world tipped upside down finding Mickey at their house when he came to talk to his brother.

Reese sucked in air through her teeth, "Oh boy. That must have felt so shitty. I'm so sorry."

Ian blinked and looked up at her, "Why are _you_ apologizing?"

"Because you're hurting and until right now, I didn't know that I'd been a part of the reason why."

"What are you saying?" Ian was sitting up straight now, looking at her, his face all confusion.

With some effort, Reese heaved herself across the couch so she was sitting at the end nearest to Ian. "Didn't Lip explain _anything_ to you?"

Swallowing, his throat dry, Ian answered, "He told me that Mickey is working for him?"

Reese shook her head. "No. I mean, didn't he tell you why Mickey is living here?"


	14. Chapter 14

_(Ten months earlier)_

_"I really think you should ask your brother," Reese pressed, picking up her coffee and taking a gulp._

_Lip looked across the table at her. "I haven't spoken to him in months, Ree. I'm not asking him." _

_"But this is important," she sighed, setting her mug back down and cupping it with both hands. "We can't just get _anyone_ to do it."_

_"I'm not saying we'll get just _anyone_ to do it," Lip replied, picking at a piece of cold toast, "but I am not going to meet up with Ian after fuck knows how long and say 'hey little brother, want to give us your sperm so me and my girl who you've never met can have a baby, because clearly I'm not enough of a man to do it myself?'"_

_"Philip, stop it." Reese sat back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest._

_Pushing his chair back and standing up, aggravated, Lip snapped, "Can you please stop calling me Philip!"_

_Jabbing a finger in his direction, Reese jibed back, "I will when you stop being such a dick." Her voice softened then. "We've been over this so much. We're not the first couple this has happened to and we won't be the last and I certainly don't find you any less of a man because of it. I want your child. However we get it, whoever we get it from, I'll never think of it as anyone's but yours. I just thought Ian was the obvious choice."_

_Lip sat back down again, "Well he's not. I mean, what if he and Vicki want kids? I can't let him have another kid by us first. It's not fair."_

_Leaning forwards across the table, Reese tried to reason with him. "But it wouldn't _be _his kid."_

_"Plus it would have ginger hair. How the fuck would we explain that?" Lip murmured under his breath._

_"Lip, please."_

_"No! Please don't ask me again," his attention back on Reese's face now." Let's just go to a sperm bank like normal people."_

_"You know we can't afford that."_

_Suddenly a voice from the other side of the room said, "I'll do it."_

_Reese peered around Lip, wide-eyed, as his head whipped around, "What the fuck, Mickey? What are you doing here?"_

_Mickey raised an eyebrow. "Er. You told me to meet you here, dumbass. You had deliveries you wanted making?"_

_Lip stood up and turned to face Mickey. "So you thought you'd do a little eavesdropping while you were at it?"_

_Mickey smirked. __Not really eavesdroppin' when you're talking at the tops of your voices and I'm in the same room. If you don't want people to hear you, how about next time you hang a sign on the fuckin' door?" _

_From behind them, they both heard Reese's quiet voice. "What do you mean you'll do it?"_

_"Reese, no fucking way. We don't want Milkovich genes in the family," Lip said, looking at her and shaking his head, jabbing a thumb towards Mickey._

_Mickey's tone was indignant, "Hey man! If it was good enough for your brother..."_

_There was a tense moment before Lip turned his head slowly back to Mickey. "Is that some kind of sick fucking joke? After what you did to him?"_

_Mickey held up his hands, palms out, contrite. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I didn't... Look that's... Forget I said that okay? Please?"_

_Lip backed off, still quietly seething. Reese stood staring at Mickey, flicking hopeful glances at Lip._

_Mickey continued, "Anyway, eavesdroppin' or no, you sound like you're in a jam. I got what you need. If you want it. Not like I'm gonna be fuckin' poppin' out any kids of my own anytime soon right?"_

_"And what would you want from us?" Reese asked._

_"Reese, you're not seriously considering this?" Lip's tone was one of utter disbelief._

_"Why not? What other choice do we have? You won't go to your brother. We can't afford to go to the clinics. At least we would know where it came from. And it's not like the baby would inherit the filthy gene," she spared a glance at Mickey, "no offence Mickey." _

_Mickey waved a hand dismissively at her, "Whatever. None taken."_

_Lip was incredulous, but Reese was imploring him with her eyes and damn it, he couldn't think of any alternatives. He turned his attention to Mickey again._

_"So what _would_ you get out of it, Mickey? Because I refuse to believe you're doing this out of the goodness of your heart."_

_Mickey shrugged. "How much would it cost you to go to a... you know... a bank? "_

_Lip let out a bark of a laugh, "Oh I should have known it would be about money."_

_Reese elbowed him. "It could cost upwards of $400 every time we try."_

_Mickey's eyes widened questioningly, "_Every_ time?"_

_"Yeah, if the sperm doesn't fertilise the-"_

_"Ah-ah-ah." Mickey interrupted. "Shit. I don't need details. What about you give me $350? But if it doesn't work the first time we just keep trying until it does."_

_Lip was suspicious. "What's the catch?"_

_"Jesus. There's no fuckin' catch, Lip." Mickey threw his arms up, exasperated. "You need the stuff. I need the money. That's all. Oh and I need you to keep me on as your runaround guy."_

Ian sat in stunned silence as Reese finished recounting her version of events.

She hadn't taken her eyes from him the entire time, watching him for a reaction. When none had really been forthcoming, other than utter shock, she'd stopped speaking.

"Ian? You okay? _Ian?_" She reached forward and touched him gently on the arm.

Ian jumped as if he'd been electrocuted. He stared at her hand on his arm, then slowly brought his head up to focus on her face.

"I can't... I don't... I literally have no idea how to process that," he breathed out.

"I know that it all seems crazy-" she began.

Ian scoffed.

"But you have to understand something. After all that crap with Karen Jackson went down, I don't think Lip ever got over it."

Ian looked up at Reese in surprise.

Reese saw the look. "He tells me everything, Ian. Well evidently not _everything_, but then that really wasn't his thing to tell was it?" She raised her eyebrows at him. "But anyway, he got over _her_, but I think he'd gotten used to the idea of being a dad. Fallen in love with it. He really wanted a child. He said he just needed the right person." She smiled then, a secret kind of smile. "We tried for a long time. Mickey offered us a solution. Like I said, sounds crazy."

"It's not crazy. I understand. I think," Ian sighed, "I'm just being selfish. I just wish I'd known what to expect, turning up here and finding him when I wanted to just reconnect with my family. It was just _so_ awkward, you know?"

"I'm sorry. Again. We just... " Reese lowered her head, "when he came to us after the fire we couldn't say no. Well, I couldn't. Not after what he'd done for us."

Ian nodded his head slowly.

"But we had no idea you were going to be around." she gave Ian's arm a reassuring squeeze. "If we'd known - if _I'd_ known all of this before... I would have _made_ Lip call you."

"I still can't believe Lip agreed to it so easily. Having a Milkovich in the house..."

Reese shook her head quickly, "No, I had to convince him on all counts. I left out the arguments we had before he agreed to let Mickey be the sperm donor," Ian winced, "and Lip really didn't want him here when he asked if he could stay."

"Well, I doubt he could resist you for long though," Ian smiled at her then, a genuine one.

She returned it, but continued quickly, "Well yeah, that! But when Mickey said his dad tried to kill him, I don't think either of us had the heart to-"

"Wait. What?" Ian's reaction was delayed, as her words sunk in.

"You didn't know?"

Ian leapt up. "Know what? What do you mean Terry tried to _kill_ him?" The air around him was starting to go fuzzy.

Reese looked up at him from the couch. "Mickey was in the store when Terry set the fire. He was sleeping. It was _definitely_ done with intent to kill."

Ian's heartbeat suddenly started to make a whooshing sound as it pounded in his ears, and his vision was going white at the edges. He couldn't focus and now it felt like the whole house was on a tilt.

He could hear Reese calling his - and strangely Mickey's - name, with increasing urgency, as if she was in a far away echoing room, but his world felt a little like it was caving in on him and he was falling with it.

Right before he blacked out, he felt someone catch him.


	15. Chapter 15

Ian opened his eyes, and found himself looking at the ceiling. He stared for a moment at an old damp patch there and then followed the line of a crack that stretched out from the lampshade above him to the corner of the room. As his gaze shifted lower it fell on Mickey sitting in the chair opposite the couch where he was now obviously lying.

As Mickey noticed Ian stirring, he rocked to his feet, grabbing a glass of water from the table and moving over to Ian.

"Here," he said, adding "From the filter. Promise!" as Ian eyed the glass warily.

Ian smacked his lips a couple of times, finding his mouth drier than he had anticipated. He reached for the water, flinching a little as his and Mickey's fingers touched around the glass.

Mickey snatched his hand back, frowning.

"What happened? Where's Reese?" Ian asked, sitting up.

Mickey sat back on the edge of the chair, looking as if he was set to run. "You passed out. Reese called me when you went down. She went for a nap."

Ian instinctively looked around towards what he assumed was her bedroom door. "Shit! How long have I been out?"

"About twenty minutes," Mickey clarified. "We were worried for a while. Reese wanted to call 911, but you were breathing okay. Guess you must have needed the rest. How do you feel."

"Rested," Ian admitted.

"So," Mickey began after a moment of quiet, "you wanna talk about what the fuck happened?"

It was on the tip of Ian's tongue to spout some bullshit about not eating or something equally innocuous, when he realised that he and Mickey were alone and now was as good a time as any to get things out in the open.

He breathed in and out, then took a sip of the water. He kept his head down, only occasionally glancing up through his lashes, almost worried that Mickey wasn't going to be there.

"These last few weeks," he started, setting the glass back down on the table and scrubbing his hands over his face," have been a bit... I don't know. Exhausting?"

He looked up at Mickey then, who was staring back at him, eyebrows raised, with something almost like disbelief in his eyes.

"No, no. I mean. Fuck." Ian looked away again. "I know you've had a shit time. What I mean is... I think it's all connected. Like _we're_ connected somehow."

Mickey rummaged in his pockets until he found a pack of cigarettes, obviously in need of something to do with his hands. "You wanna explain that?" He asked, lighting one, snapping his lighter shut.

Ian sighed. "I don't know if I can. Hey, can I bum one of those? It started a few weeks ago when I had a dream about you. Out of the blue."

Their hands touched again as Mickey passed the cigarette pack, but this time there was no flinching. In fact, they lingered for a few seconds longer than necessary before Ian took the pack and lit a cigarette. They didn't make eye contact though as Ian continued.

"It was so _vivid_."

Mickey cleared his throat, "Why was it so weird though? Had you not had a dream about me before?"

"No. Not since about a month after you left me." Ian shook his head vehemently. Then, after a pause, he looked at Mickey. "Why? Do you dream about _me_?"

Mickey cleared his throat again, nervously this time and rubbed the back of his neck, "Well... yeah."

A tiny smile spread across Ian's face then.

"For fuck's sake, Gallagher. You don't have to look so smug about it. Jesus."

"Sorry! I'm just... just surprised is all." Ian stuttered out.

"Yeah well. Like I said. Fuckin' dumb." Mickey smirked. "Anyway, so this dream?"

"Yours or mine?" Ian joked.

"_Yours_. Don't be fuckin' funny."

"Okay. Sorry. Yeah like I said, it was weird. Then I found out from Fiona that the store burned down a week before." Ian took in a long suck of smoke. "I didn't know you were in there though. I guess, maybe my subconscious was trying to tell me something?"

Sensing there was more, Mickey stayed quiet, nibbling at the skin around what was left of his fingernails.

Ian carried on, "Yeah, so the dreams just kept on coming. Sometimes in the day too while I was awake. And they weren't really dreams either - more like memories."

Mickey was nodding.

"And then I saw you at Lip's which was just such a shock-"

"It was for me too, asshole!" Mickey interrupted, "I had no idea you were even in town. I didn't want the first time you saw me to go down like that. You know?"

"I do. But when I got back and Fiona had no idea you were there, and I couldn't get in touch with Lip, I actually thought I'd just imagined you there."

Mickey suddenly lets out an "Ohhhh!" of realisation.

Ian looks up, inquisitive. "What?"

"Well, I'm guessing you won't remember, but when I found you at the bar the other night, the first thing you said was that you thought you'd passed out. Guess that makes sense now."

Ian blushed. "I'm sorry about that night. I have _no _idea what I said."

Mickey shook his head. "Don't say you're sorry. You said stuff I've been saying to myself for nearly ten fuckin' years. I just wish I could have explained things."

"Like what?"

"Like... why I said all that shit to you back then and just left you."

"I really don't think you need to. Not after what Reese just told me about your dad and..." Ian swallowed.

"But you didn't know that then did you?" Mickey shrugged.

"True. But all the time you just kept saying your dad would kill you. I just thought you were using it as an excuse to get away from me. That you were being overdramatic."

"I'm a Milkovich," Mickey scoffed, "Milkoviches don't fuckin' do drama."

"Ha!" Ian laughed incredulously, "Seriously? And that day that Frank caught us? You don't call that drama?"

"No, I call that realism. And I was right wasn't I?" Mickey gestured around him to make his point.

"Yeah," Ian felt the air going fuzzy again. "I guess you were."

Mickey suddenly jumped up and starting pacing. "Look I thought killing Frank was a solution. But really I was just fuckin'... buying time, trying to find another solution for us. And there was nothing. _Nothing_. The only thing I could come up with was to take myself out of your life."

"But that wasn't just your decision to make." Ian said, watching Mickey as he moved.

"Yeah. Actually it was." Mickey stopped to face him. "At that moment, I knew it would hurt more in the long run if I stuck around and couldn't be the person you needed me to be. Shit. That I _wanted_ to be for you. That's why I hit that cop. I didn't want to. But I just. I fuckin' _had _to."

Ian was silent.

Mickey started gesturing with his arms, "See, you don't get it. I mean, you had me pegged the whole time - you knew how I felt about you. Just because I didn't say - _couldn't_ say it - didn't mean I didn't feel it." He took a deep breath. "You know I used to fantasise all the time about us doin' stuff together? But it was always in the back of my mind like, 'fuck. What if Terry catches us?' I could never seem to get it through that thick fuckin' skull of yours – what it would mean."

"I know. I-"

"You _don't_." Mickey starting pacing about again. "You _don't_ _fuckin'_ _know_. My dad carried a gun on him all the time. It fuckin' scared the shit outta me that he would find out about us and kill me. Or worse."

"What's worse than _that_?"

There was a pause as Mickey stopped pacing. He chewed at his thumbnail for moment, before looking at Ian.

"He could have killed _you._"

Ian met Mickey's eyes then. And everything that Ian thought he'd left behind almost ten years ago all resurfaced at once, as he realised he had never stopped loving Mickey at all and that he'd just avoided anything that might remind him of how he felt. Tears welled up in his eyes.

Mickey obviously noticed. "Ah, shit Ian. Don't fuckin' cry. Not now, please? There's only enough room for one lot of sap in this house right now and I am reaching my quota for my lifetime as we speak."

Ian let out a juddering laugh, and a tear rolled down his cheek which he wiped away as quickly as he could.

Mickey was serious again now. "That's why I did it. And it's why I didn't come looking for you when I got out. Because whenever I saw you, I always wanted to just push you up against a wall and do stuff to you. I wanted to be able to talk dirty in your ear while we were somewhere public, tell you all the things I wanted to do to you, and make you get hard and have people know it was me having that effect on you. I wanted to... well, not hold your hand because you know I don't do that shit, but fuck. I wanted to kiss you. Every time you gave me that look that said you wanted me to."

Ian sat open-mouthed and his face felt like it was on fire, but he couldn't take his eyes from Mickey's.

Mickey pressed on, "But I couldn't. I couldn't do any of that and it was fuckin' _killing_ me, and I knew it was making you miserable. I just wanted you to have that with _someone_, so I figured best to just take me out of the equation."

Ian gave a nervous chuckle. "You thought about all of that right before you punched out that cop?!"

Mickey shrugged, "Yeah, you know. Super fast trains of thought and all that shit?"

Another silent moment passed. Ian still felt so hot that the tips of his ears were burning, but he didn't stop himself asking, "So... what kind of things?"

Mickey's eyes met Ian's. "Huh?"

"You said you wanted to tell me the things you wanted to do to me." Ian's skin was burning. "What kind of things?"

Mickey's face split into a wide grin, his eyelids lowering and his voice dropping what seemed like a full octave as he answered. "The kind of things that would make you blush more than you are right now." He watched as Ian's Adam's apple bobbed in his throat.

"Such as?" Ian's question was barely audible.

Mickey licked his lips, putting out the cigarette that he'd forgotten about in the ashtray. "I'd think about pressing up against you. Somewhere where you wouldn't be able to do anything about it. Whisper to you about how I wanted to take your cock in my mouth and suck you until you were making those fuckin' whining noises like you couldn't get enough."

Ian stood up suddenly, made a move towards the door. Not trying to escape, but wholly aware that he was rapidly getting turned on and that this little exchange was going to result in _something_. Something that hadn't happened for a long time – except in his head - and he wasn't sure how ready he was for it. He made it as far as the little dividing wall between the living and dining rooms before Mickey was on his feet and crowding him from behind.

"Don't go, Ian. Not until you tell me you remember those noises I used to get you to make when I sucked your cock."

"Yes I remember." Ian's tongue felt heavy in his mouth as he tried to form the words. He could feel Mickey's dick, already hard in his sweatpants, and he instinctively leaned back against him.

Mickey's hand snaked around the front of Ian's jeans, palming over his erection. "Good. I remember them too. I always hear them when I think about you. They help me get off."

Ian whipped around then, pressing himself back against the wall, and Mickey pushed up even closer, their cocks rubbing together through their clothes, despite the height difference, causing unbelievable friction.

Closing his eyes, Ian lost himself in the sensation. He'd spent so long blocking out all thoughts of Mickey. These last few weeks had hit hard as all the memories had been coming back to him in waves, but now it was like his whole body was waking up and remembering what it had all felt like and was giving Ian reminders. Now the entire surface area of his skin felt as if it was on fire. His stomach was in one big knot, but not the nauseated kind. The kind that appeared right before Mickey would bite into his shoulder, or lick a stripe up the length of his cock, or-

"Look at me, Ian." Mickey's voice interrupted his thoughts.

Ian wasn't ready to open his eyes yet. He screwed them a little tighter closed.

Then he heard, more urgently, "Fuck. Gallagher, look at me. _Please._"

That got Ian's attention. His lids snapped open and he let out a breath. Mickey's face was right in front of him, eyes searching Ian's.

As they focused their gaze on each other, Mickey's expression suddenly became determined and before Ian could figure out why, Mickey had closed the distance between their mouths and they were kissing.

Their first kiss.


	16. Chapter 16

As their lips came together, and Ian's spine was crushed against the wall, he became acutely aware of every little detail of what was happening.

It was if he knew he needed to remember it all in case it never happened again. He could feel Mickey's hands grabbing at his shirt, and he could tell that Mickey was having to reach up on his tiptoes to reach Ian's mouth.

This thought made him smile and as his lips parted slightly, Mickey took full advantage, deepening the kiss and pressing harder against him, one hand reaching up and grabbing frantically at the back of Ian's neck pulling their mouths closer together.

His smile evaporating, Ian leaned into Mickey and licked into his mouth. There was a brief moment when Mickey sucked on Ian's tongue and Ian felt his eyes rolling back in his head. He pushed himself away from the wall and wrapped his arms – which had previously been hanging boneless at his sides – around Mickey's waist.

He brought their bodies flush together, their lips never breaking contact, and they fell back against the wall. As their groins touched, it elicited a moan from Mickey that brought Ian back to earth with a bump.

Ian tried to break the kiss, but Mickey was up against him so close there was nowhere for his head – and therefore his face – to go.

"Nmmph," was all he could manage to mumble against Mickey's mouth. Mickey wasn't getting the message though, so Ian brought his arms around to Mickey's chest and with as much force as he could muster, which wasn't much – his entire body was screaming "_What are you doing? Are you crazy?_" at him – he pushed.

Mickey took a step back, eyes wide. "What the fuck? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Ian lied, watching as Mickey wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Bullshit. You've never pushed me away before."

Ian realised with a jolt how true this was. For all that time, it had always been him trying to get closer to Mickey, trying to make him stay and it was always Mickey keeping him at a literal arms length and, on that last day in the Kash n Grab, actually pushing him away.

He stared at Mickey now, shaking his head, trying to clear it.

Mickey tried to close the distance between them again, but Ian side-stepped out of his way, finally making it to the front door.

"It's too much, Mickey. I... I can't."

"So you're just walkin' away." Mickey wasn't asking.

Ian paused, hand on the door handle. He tilted his head in the direction of the man who had walked away from _him_ all that time ago, but he couldn't meet his eyes.

His voice filled with sadness more than anger, he breathed out three little words.

"Fuck you, Mickey."

And he threw open the door and walked out of the house without looking back. Again.

* * *

Walking away from Lip's house after what had just happened was probably one of the hardest things Ian had ever had to do that wasn't in the name of his country.

His mind was still reeling from everything and it kept playing back all the conversations, but the only thing he could really focus on was the feel of Mickey's hand in his hair and their lips together _finally_ and...

Shit. He just had to keep walking.

After about five blocks, he risked a glance over his shoulder to make sure nobody had come after him. Not that he was expecting Mickey to follow him after what just went down and Reese was hardly in any condition to give chase. Maybe it was just wishful thinking.

He eventually got back to his car that he'd left parked opposite the Alibi. When he saw his phone on the front seat, he couldn't believe it _or_ his car were still in situ. He was distracted and getting careless. A quick look at the screen revealed several missed calls and texts. All from Vicki or Fiona.

He wondered what it meant that he immediately called Fiona back.

"Ian!" She answered on the second ring. "Are you okay? Where are you?"

"I'm fine. I left my phone in the car. What's going on?"

He heard a brief conversation going on in the background, then Fiona's voice was back in his ear.

"Vicki's here. She tried calling you."

"She's _there?" _Ian just wanted some quiet. He needed to gather his thoughts.

More away-from-the-phone conversation. "She says she was worried. D'you want to speak to her?"

He sighed. "No. Look, I'm on my way. Tell her... Just tell her I'll be there soon."

Just before he hit the button to end the call, he heard a tinny voice through the little speaker, "'kay. Love you."

He closed his eyes for a long minute, threw his phone in the passenger seat, then started the engine to drive back to the place he used to call home.

* * *

Fiona was on the front steps when he pulled up outside the house. When he didn't get out of the car right away, she practically skipped down them two at a time and wrenched his door open.

"You got about two seconds to explain this to me, Ian. I mean it."

"Where's Vicki?" Ian asked, unfolding himself from the car and squeezing past her, leaving the door wide open. "Is she mad?"

"Sounds like she has every reason to be." Fiona waited for a response. When none came, she slammed the car door. "Ian! Does she?"

Ian paused halfway up the steps, "I want to tell you everything, Fi, but there isn't time."

He left her standing by the car, and went inside.

He closed the door quietly behind him, inhaled deeply, then called out Vicki's name into the eerily quiet house.

A flush came from the downstairs bathroom and a few seconds later she appeared. He walked through to the kitchen. Vicki stood by the back door, and he moved behind the kitchen counter. The separation between them felt somehow symbolic. They looked at each other for a long time.

Finally Vicki spoke. "Where have you been?"

"You just saw me this morning." Ian replied. "It's only been a few hours."

"It has been _eight_ hours and since when has there been a time limit on worrying about your husband?" She didn't sound worried. She didn't sound anything.

Another moment of silence passed. Ian recalled the sun setting as he'd left Lip's house, but the fact that it was evening hadn't registered at all. He wondered how the time had managed to get away from him.

"I went to see Lip."

"For eight hours?"

"No! Not for... God." Ian could hear the exasperation in his voice and he didn't mean for it to be there, but it was like he couldn't stop it. He sounded like a teenager rebelling against his mother.

"Then where _were_ you?" Vicki pushed.

"I don't have to tell you my every move do I?" Ian bit out, then instantly regretted it.

There was a slight pause then, "Were you with _him_?"

"For fuck's sake!" He snapped. He wanted to slap a hand over his mouth.

Vicki looked crestfallen at the harshness in his voice, "For god's sake, Ian. Don't do this. Can we not do this? Please?"

And now it all came out, in a rush of words. "Look. I'm sorry okay? I'm so sorry about all of this. It's been crazy, for the last few weeks and I _know_ that it's not your fault and that I shouldn't be taking any of it out on you but I don't know how to handle it. What I'm feeling? What's going on. Why nobody thought I needed to know any of it. I can't help it. I want to. I hate that I'm hurting you but I can't help it." He took a gulp of air.

"So it's about Mickey then?" She wasn't angry. She sounded resigned to it, and that made Ian feel even worse.

Ian made to move out from behind the counter. "I _am_ sorry, Vicki. Please-"

She closed her eyes. "Just. Tell me."

"I think," She opened her eyes again as he spoke and he took a step towards her, but she backed away, grasping blindly for the door handle, "It's always been about him. I just didn't realise it before."

She shook her head almost imperceptibly and Ian saw tears start to fall from her eyes, but she didn't move to wipe at them. Without turning away from him, she opened the door and silently stepped back through it, her head dropping at the last second.

"I'm-" Ian started, as the door closed. "I'm so sorry." He finished in a whisper and he turned, leaned forward on the counter and put his head in his hands.


	17. Chapter 17

"Was that really necessary?"

The way the blood was pounding in Ian's head, Fiona's voice sounded like it was underwater.

A sadness came over him that he hadn't felt for so long, hearing the disappointment in his sister's tone. He hated being the one to put it there.

His head still down, he murmured, "I don't know what else to do."

"Well you could try _not _making your wife feel like crap?" she ventured. When there was no reply she continued, "Do you want to tell me what's going on now?"

He lifted his head. "I can't. I can't go over it all _again_. And I don't want you to hate me too. I can't have _you_ hate me as well as everyone else."

"Why the hell would I hate you?" Fiona moved over to him and touched his shoulder gently. "_Please_, Ian. No more secrets now. You have to tell me."

Ian took his time standing up. His back ached from being slumped over, but he didn't feel like he had the right to stretch his muscles and ease his discomfort right now, so he made his way – slightly hunched - to the table and perched on it. Fiona leant against the counter, watching him closely.

"I love him. Mickey. I thought I'd got past it – got over him - but I haven't." He didn't wait for a response. "And I'm pretty sure he feels the same way."

"How sure? Like leave-your-wife sure? Because Ian-"

"That's the only bit I _am _sure about right now." Ian finally met Fiona's gaze. "I can't keep stringing her along. I think all of this with Mickey has just brought up what I needed to know all along. Whatever happens with him, I think Vicki deserves to have her life back."

At that moment his phone vibrated. In two minds whether to check it or not, but thinking it could be Vicki, he took his phone from his pocket. But it wasn't her. Instead, a text from an unknown number showed on the screen saying simply:

_[Im sorry]_

Ian stared at it.

"Ian?"

"I... hold on." He was still trying to process the anonymous apology - there could only really be one person who'd sent it - when his phone buzzed again.

_[I was a stupid fuck. please]_

"Who is it?" Fiona asked.

"I think it must be Mickey, but he doesn't have my number so I don't know how."

He stood and passed the phone to Fiona to show her the last message. She looked and her eyes widened. "What happened?" As she spoke, the phone vibrated again. She glanced down briefly then passed the phone back to her brother.

Ian looked at the screen. All it said this time was:

_[Gallagher?]_

He chuckled humourlessly. "So we're back to Gallagher now," He said, to nobody in particular.

He looked at his sister and his whole body suddenly felt so heavy. "Can we talk about this in the morning? Is that okay? I'm so fucking tired, Fi. I just need to sleep."

Fiona reached into one of the higher kitchen cupboards and took out a bottle of pills. As she did so, the phone buzzed in Ian's hand again. He was almost afraid to look at it, but this time it was from Lip.

_[I just gave Mickey your number. Hope I don't make everything worse. Lip]_

"Frank left these," Fiona said, shaking one of the pills out and passing it to him. "Take it and get some sleep. But I swear to God, if you are not here in the morning to talk about this, I will hunt you down."

"I promise." Ian swallowed the pill dry, the powdery residue leaving a bitter taste on his tongue.

"Carl's out tonight. You can take his bed."

"Thanks," Ian murmured gratefully, starting up the stairs.

"Ian," Fiona's voice had an urgent edge, "what the fuck did he do?"

"He kissed me."

"Oh."

* * *

The yelling woke Ian in the morning. Not the usual Gallagher household sort of yelling either, but a proper argument. He could hear Fiona's voice, raised in anger, and another voice. Shit. Was that Mickey?

Ian scrambled to pull on some sweatpants and a shirt, and slapped both his cheeks in attempt to wake himself up.

He heard Mickey's voice loud and clear.

"You can't stop me from seeing him."

"Like _hell_ I can't!" came Fiona's retort. "This is my house, and you don't go up those stairs."

"Well let's get him down here then shall we? GALLAGHER!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Fiona was hissing through clenched teeth, as Ian rounded the corner on the stairs.

"It's okay. I'm here." He didn't come the whole way down though, leaving Mickey looking up at him.

"You just gonna stay up there?" he gestured to where Ian stood in place.

"What do you want, Mickey," Ian asked, unmoving.

Mickey looked expectantly at Fiona, like he was waiting for her to leave.

Fiona scoffed, "I'm not going _anywhere_."

Ian turned to face his sister. He gave her a look that said _"Just give us a minute" _and she frowned at having to backtrack, but she made for the front room anyway. "I'll wait out front."

Mickey started first, "You just ignoring me? You even get my messages?"

Ian looked back at Mickey and folded his arms.

"Oh the silent treatment. Like we're in high school, I get it." Mickey let out a sarcastic laugh.

"Mick-"

"So, the thing is," Mickey burst out, "you just expect me to _say_ stuff. You always fuckin'... _want_ stuff from me. It was the same back then and it's the same now."

"Wha-?" Ian was shocked. Clearly Mickey had this all prepared.

"See, I always knew how _you_ felt, Gallagher. It was written all over your fuckin' face, for Christ's sake. With your goddamn puppy-dog eyes and the way... the way you'd touch me." Mickey was pacing now.

Ian took a breath, ready to speak.

"No. I'm not fuckin' done yet." Mickey stopped and held up a hand. "What I mean is, it was always okay that _you_ only showed me how you felt, but you never seemed to get that I was doing the same. You always needed more from me. You always _wanted_ more from me. You always wanted me to _say_ stuff."

"Because I-"

"I said I wasn't _done_," Mickey barrelled on. He sounded out of breath, like he'd been running. "You realise that _you_ never actually said anything to me? You were always trying to get me to admit stuff, but _you_ never did. Not once. The first time I heard you say those words to me was the other night when you were completely shitfaced. And you said it in the _past fuckin' tense_. Yeah, that felt fuckin' awesome by the way."

Ian gaped at him. That couldn't be true could it? Had he really never actually _told_ Mickey how he felt?

Mickey raised his eyebrows, like he was challenging Ian to correct him.

"So... what are you are saying?" Ian asked, trying for nonchalance, but feeling the heat rising in his cheeks.

Mickey quickly chewed off a fingernail. "I'm saying that you wanted me to say words to you that _you_ wouldn't say to me. I'm saying that when I left," he put air quotes around the word, "I did it because I couldn't kill your dad and make things worse between us, but then _you_ ran off to get yourself killed and when _that_ didn't work you fuckin' married a _woman_ for fuck's sake!" He took a quick breath. "So I'm wondering whose feelings were clearer? I guess what I'm saying here is...," he trailed off.

"What?" Ian uncrossed his arms and moved down a step. He couldn't wait any longer for an answer. "Mickey? WHAT?"

"I'm sayin' that I love you more than you loved me. How about that?" Mickey rushed out. He didn't know whether or not he wanted Ian to notice his use of the present tense.

Ian felt a sudden ache in his chest. "You asshole."

Mickey scoffed, "How am _I_ an asshole?! I tried to show you every fuckin' day how I felt but you couldn't see because it wasn't what you _wanted_ to see. And still I waited for you. Like some stupid pussy. And what did it get me?

Ian couldn't speak.

"Yeah. I have my answer." And in two strides Mickey was out of the back door leaving Ian still standing on the stairs, watching the door. Stunned.

* * *

When he could feel his legs again, Ian took the last couple of steps back into the dining area, eyes flitting back and forth, going back over what Mickey had just said.

He heard the front door open and close, then he saw Fiona in his peripheral vision, tentatively poking her head in. "I just saw Mickey storming away. Are you okay?"

Ian shook his head.

"Come sit down and talk to me. You want a drink?"

He shook his head again, more vehemently this time, then took a seat at the dining table as Fiona grabbed a glass of water and came to stand by him.

"Okay. Start with yesterday." Fiona began. "You said he kissed you?"

Ian nodded.

"And?" she prodded. She sounded as confused as Ian felt.

"And nothing. I mean nothing else happened." He looked up at her again. "But I wanted it so much, Fi. It just felt _right_. But I needed to make everything else feel right too. So I left, and he wasn't happy."

Fiona shook her head in disbelief. "Wait. So let me get this straight here. He leaves you. Fucks off to juvie _twice_ and you have to deal, but then _you _need a fucking minute and he calls you on it?"

Ian smiled.

"What are you smiling at?" Her eyebrows shot up, questioningly. "I want to punch him in the face right now! Goddamn Milkoviches."

Ian let out a laugh then. A genuine, proper laugh. And once he started, he couldn't seem to stop. It felt like a really good release.

"What?!" Fiona watched as he bent double with laughter, hands gripping his ankles. She began nervously giggling with him. "Why are we laughing? What's so funny?"

Ian let out a long, loud sigh and regained his composure. "Nothing. Nothing's funny. It's just ironic. That you get this. You get it straight away. If I'd told you about it at the time, maybe you could have saved me all this trouble. Probably the stint in the army too."

Fiona's forehead creased into a frown. "Huh? How does that work?"

"Because...," Ian started "Because I ran away. I'm not proud of it. But when Mickey went to juvie to get away from me again – or at least that's what I _thought_ happened – I'd just had enough. So I stayed away. I bided time. And then I ran."

When Ian turned his attention back to Fiona, she was standing right in front of him and she looked like she was about to cry. Or kill him.

"_That's_ why you left? But you always said you wanted to join the army."

"I know, and I _did_." Ian rubbed a hand over his skull and down to his neck, "But Mickey felt like someone to stick around for, you know?

Fiona punched him in the arm. "Oh? And what about the rest of us? You left your family and everyone you loved and you could have been killed - because of _Mickey?"_

Ian grimaced at her tone and nodded.

"_Jesus. _I can't believe you were so fucking selfish, Ian."

"Selfish?" Ian stared at her. "I leave to serve my country and you call me _selfish_?"

"Except that's not why you went though, and you know it and now _I_ know it. You weren't being noble, you were running away from a boy and I'm so fucking _mad_ at you." She thumped him again. It actually hurt this time, but he didn't complain.

"And this is why I couldn't tell you," Ian's voice was laced with chagrin. "And now I feel twice as shit because Mickey just told me that he loves me. That he basically loved me this whole time and that he went to juvie to protect me."

"Protect you?! From what?!" Fiona asked, incredulous.

"From him. From his fucking psycho dad. From being hurt anymore because I kept pushing him for more than he could give. And now all I can think is that I DIDN'T WAIT FOR HIM." He shouted the last words angrily into the room, tears starting to fall.

"Jesus, Ian," Fiona bounded towards him and pulled him into her arms.

"He waited nearly ten years for me and I couldn't wait six months for him." Ian's voice cracked as he said the words, his tears landing on Fiona's shoulders and soaking through her shirt.

"He's never kissed me before," Ian confessed against her shoulder.

She didn't answer him. She just stroked his hair and gently rocked him from side to side like a child in her arms for a few minutes. It felt natural, even though he was a good head taller than her. She let him sob, and gulp for air and when he eventually calmed, she pulled back until he she was looking right at him.

"It sounds to me, little brother, like you might have run away from him, but you never actually left."

Ian sniffed and wiped at his eyes with the heel of his hand. "What do you mean?"

"What do you _think_ I mean?" She smiled sympathetically at him. "Love's never easy. Fuck, if anyone knows that, it's me. But if you love him, you gotta tell him. And yeah, someone's gonna get hurt in the process, sometimes you just can't help that."

"Yeah?"

"I never thought I'd say this about a Milkovich, but if you feel like this – if you've _always_ felt like this - then don't lose him, because it's like a slow burning acid that eats you from the inside out." She put her hand flat on his chest. "And if he's waited this long, I can only imagine how Mickey must feel."

Ian's face was still wet with tears. His eyes were stinging and sore, but he felt his mouth turn up in a lopsided grin. "God, I've missed you so much," he said, falling into another hug.

Fiona kissed the top of his head. "And I've missed that smile," she replied.


	18. Chapter 18

_Mickey POV_

_Almost a full two days had gone by, but Mickey was still compulsively looking at his phone every few minutes. The damned thing was practically glued to his hand._

_He lit yet another cigarette and inhaled deeply as he opened his message inbox yet again._

* * *

**AT&T 11:06 51%**

** Gallagher**

[Me.]

_**[what?]**_

[It gets you me.]

_** [the fuck are you talkin  
about?]**_

[You said you waited for  
me. You said "what did it  
get me?" The answer is  
me.]

[I love you.]

* * *

_As he read and re-read the text conversation, he blew out a steady stream of smoke, and he couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face.  
_


	19. Chapter 19

The following day everyone from the Gallagher house was at work or school. Ian was still staying there, there so he asked Mickey to come by.

When he arrived, Mickey stepped past Ian into the living room and looked around.

We've got the place to ourselves," Ian confirmed. He recalled a time when this information would have meant the frantic removal of clothes and a quick fuck while they had the chance without anyone catching them, and he revelled in the fact that they had progressed from that. Then he got a surprise yet again.

Mickey turned back towards him, reached out and took hold of his arm just above the elbow and kissed him.

There was nothing forceful or frantic about it and Mickey wasn't trying to lead anywhere with this kiss either. Just a gentle press of lips and a little touch of tongues – a lovers' greeting.

As they pulled apart a fraction, Ian smiled, "Hi."

Mickey grinned back, but he held on to Ian's arm for a few moments longer and they both savoured the contact.

When Mickey finally dropped his hand, Ian got them both a drink and they sat down in the living room, Ian on the sofa and Mickey in the armchair.

"So," Mickey started, but said nothing else.

"So." Ian answered.

"Is... did... what?" Mickey couldn't seem to form a coherent sentence. "Fuck."

Somehow though, Ian knew what Mickey was asking. "We've talked the last couple of days. And we'll probably talk again. There's a lot of stuff to work out. But she knows we want _very_ different things"

Mickey snorted, "Seems really you both kinda want the _same _thing."

Ian rolled his eyes. "Not now, Mickey."

"Sorry." It was clear that Mickey was nervous.

"Anyway, I explained as much as I could. That I wanted her to have a life with someone that could give her what she wanted."

Mickey cleared his throat anxiously.

"I could hear myself speaking and it all sounded so fucking clichéd," Ian continued. "God, it totally sucked."

"Are you sure that it's what _you_ wanted? I mean, if it was so shitty..." Mickey trailed off, looking away.

"Yes," Ian's nod was definite. "Absolutely it was the right thing to do. I just wish she didn't have to get hurt."

Mickey looked at Ian. "I'm sorry."

"No _I'm_ sorry." Ian met his eyes. "and I'm sorry I kept you waiting."

"Fuck it," Mickey shrugged. "What's a couple days?"

"I'm not talking about these past few days Mickey."

Mickey took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and drew one out. Ian noticed his hands were shaking as he lit it, but he didn't say anything. Mickey took a couple of drags then held it out towards Ian with his thumb and middle finger. The action was so familiar, so _right_, that Ian smiled fondly at him as he took it.

"What you smiling for, Firecrotch?"

Ian choked out a laugh in the middle of an inhale, the smoke coming out of his nose and mouth. "Wow. You haven't called me that in a _long_ time!"

"Yeah, well. Figured I've got some lost time to make up for," Mickey grinned.

Ian moved as near to Mickey as he could get on the couch. "I've missed you. I don't know how I didn't realise it before. Why it took _this_" Ian gestured around himself with his arms, "to come to my senses. Maybe..." he was thoughtful for a moment, "Maybe it was my subconscious giving me the all-clear when your dad was finally out of the way?"

"Ha!" Mickey's laugh was sarcastic. "Well he's definitely out of the way now. He got knifed in jail."

Ian was momentarily stunned. Terry was a sick son of a bitch, but although he wouldn't outwardly wish death on anyone, he couldn't say he wasn't glad. Still, this was Mickey's dad. "Shit. Mickey, I'm... I'm sor-"

"Don't you fuckin' _dare_ say you're sorry." Mickey snatched the cigarette back. "He almost killed me. I don't give a flying fuck about him and neither should you. Iggy said he'd take care of it. It's done."

For a brief second. Ian wondered what exactly Iggy had taken care of, then decided he was probably better off not knowing. All he _did_ know was that with Terry gone, there really was nothing in their way now. The only other person that was stopping them before had been Mickey. Maybe this time they really could make a go of it.

"Penny for 'em?" Mickey asked.

Ian gave a low chuckle, "Oh my thoughts are worth gold right now."

Mickey raised his eyebrows, "Oh _really_?" He stood and moved towards Ian, leaning to stub out the cigarette as he did so.

Ian watched Mickey's grinning face. He tried his best to keep his cool, despite the fact that he could feel his skin heating up all over his body. He lowered his head.

Mickey reached and tilted Ian's chin up, forcing eye contact. "Oh I remember that blush, "he said. "It always leads to something good."

Ian coughed lightly, nervous, and thankful suddenly thankful that Mickey at least appeared to have his wits about him as he couldn't seem to concentrate.

Mickey leaned in close, licking his lips. Ian tracked the movement.

"You gonna tell me then?" Mickey asked, his voice thick with lust and anticipation.

Ian looked into Mickey's eyes. Their faces were so close together now that he had to look at each eye separately to actually see them both. They were hooded and the blue of his irises was almost completely obscured by the black of his pupil. Perhaps Mickey wasn't as in control as he seemed to be letting on. It emboldened Ian a little. "Maybe I should make you guess."

Mickey swallowed, and the sound was so loud in the otherwise empty room. "Yeah?"

There was a split second where neither of them moved, but Ian was sure Mickey must be able to _see_ his pulse beating out of his neck. Then he grabbed Mickey's shirt and pulled.

He fell against the back of the couch, bringing Mickey down on top of him. Mickey was off-balance for just a second before he recovered. He rearranged himself, holding his upper body up over Ian's, his forearms trembling a little under the strain.

Ian couldn't wait any longer. He lifted himself right into Mickey's personal space, wound a hand round the back of his neck and kissed him. The effort of pushing himself up with one arm and his stomach muscles effectively holding him in place made the kiss messy and ineffectual, but it got his point across.

Their teeth banged together in their desperation to get to each other, and Mickey straddled Ian's thighs, put his arms around him and pulled him up to make the kiss deeper.

They stopped to take a breath and managed to get other's shirts off, Ian's dog-tags swinging up in the material and getting caught around his ear. While he was sorting them, Mickey stepped off briefly and began tugging at Ian's jeans.

"Off," he muttered. "Now. It'll only get harder later."

"Ha! That's what _he_ said." Ian laughed, then mentally kicked himself for making a ridiculous joke, and simultaneously yanked at the fly of his jeans as fast as he could.

"Yours too," he nodded in the direction of Mickey's lower half as pulled his jeans down.

Mickey palmed himself through the denim. "Not yet," he said.

He then proceeded to pull Ian's down carefully over his half-hard cock. He pushed them down to his ankles, Ian kicked them away and Mickey climbed back into his lap.

For a few seconds, Mickey gave a Ian a good look over, like he was memorising him. Or remembering. The he leaned forward, took a hold of what little hair Ian had and pushed his head back, bending to suck at Ian's neck.

"This what you were thinking?" he murmured.

Ian gasped and let out a low whine – a noise he'd never heard himself make before. Mickey was sucking a bruise into the spot on his neck where his pulse was racing. It felt like he was marking his territory and it was overwhelming.

When Mickey sat back, Ian moved to touch the sting that was left behind, but Mickey circled Ian's wrist before he could get to it and pinned his arm down by his side.

He rolled his hips and Ian groaned. Mickey grinned, obviously enjoying the effect he was having. He leaned down and licked a stripe up the centre of Ian's chest. The angle looked awkward and uncomfortable, but somehow still sexy. Ian felt like he was burning up and wondered if he actually _tasted_ hot. As Mickey moved to take a nipple into his mouth, Ian rolled his head back, and when Mickey bit down, gently, Ian sucked in a hissing breath.

"Was it that?" Mickey asked, resting his chin on Ian's chest whilst adjusting the rest of his body until he was kneeling on the floor between Ian's legs.

As he shifted across to the other nipple, licking it, he moved his hands to Ian's underwear that was still in the way and tugged. Ian lifted his hips to give him better access, and then his cock was free. He instinctively went to touch himself since Mickey had let go of his hands, but Mickey pinned down his hand again.

Pre-come was already pooling at the tip of his cock, and Mickey licked his lips as he moved closer. Ian could feel Mickey's breath, the warm air making his cock twitch with anticipation.

Mickey wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb, this time the action seeming more erotic than anything else. He glanced up at Ian, and gave him a half-smile.

"I think _this_ is what you had in mind, wasn't it?" he said, and before Ian could respond, Mickey had Ian's cock in his mouth.

Ian almost choked on his breath as it felt like the air was being forced out of him. He'd forgotten how amazing Mickey's mouth felt and it was like a blow to the stomach, but the good kind. As Mickey built up a rhythm using his free hand to stroke along with his mouth, Ian was trying to think of something - _anything_ - to stop himself from coming just from the memory of it.

Mickey brought Ian's hand that he'd been holding down and placed it firmly on the back of his own head. Ian immediately wound his fingers into the short, dark hair. He recalled Mickey enjoying having his hair tugged a little and he did it now, just once. Mickey hummed his approval and the vibrations made Ian buck his hips further towards Mickey's face.

"Shit. Sorry," Ian was immediately contrite, but Mickey just pushed Ian's hand deeper into his hair, and swallowed around his cock.

When Ian felt Mickey's throat constricting around him, it was as if all the tension that he'd been holding on to for the last few weeks had built up inside and was finally ready to be released. It seemed only fitting that he was literally releasing it with Mickey.

As Ian's balls tightened up and he felt the familiar static feeling all over his skin, his hips started jerking a little erratically. He didn't have time to think about pulling out of Mickey's mouth like he used to, because Mickey gripped his hips – so hard there would definitely be bruises – and held him in place as he came in Mickey's mouth.

He let out some stuttered noises that to anyone else might have sounded like he was dying, and he had a fleeting thought that maybe he _was_. But then he opened his eyes and Mickey was grinning up at him like he'd just won some sort of prize and he smiled back, a little drowsy.

He gestured for Mickey to come closer. Mickey knelt up and when he got near enough, Ian kissed him, tasting himself and Mickey's own flavour mingled. He sighed out a shuddering breath.

"Okay?" Mickey asked.

Ian nodded, eyes closed.

Climbing onto the couch beside him, Mickey laughed quietly. "As fun as guessing can be, Ian, next time just tell me what you're thinking."

* * *

Afterwards, they lay together on the couch - Mickey resting between Ian's thighs, head on Ian's cold sweat-slicked chest, and Ian's arm draped possessively across Mickey's chest.

Ian bent his head and dropped a chaste kiss on the top of Mickey's head. Mickey reflexively shifted back against him.

"Thanks," Ian murmured into Mickey's hair.

Mickey turned his head slightly towards the sound of Ian's voice. "You thanking me for a blow job right now?"

Ian laughed and slapped Mickey where his hand rested.

Mickey let out a soft "ow" but Ian could hear the smile in it.

"No! Well, not just for that. I'm thanking you because...," he paused.

Mickey sat up. "Jesus, Gallagher, spit it out!"

"Because you didn't give up on me, I guess."

Mickey stayed silent for a moment. He started to reach for his cigarette pack again, his security blanket at times like this, but then thought better of it. He let out a long breath through pursed lips.

"Okay. Here we go," he started, grabbing his shirt from the floor where it had ended up, "And listen up, because if you ever hear me talk like this again, I'll be needing you to fuckin' shoot me in the head," The words were muffled as he pulled his shirt over his head. "Right?"

Ian chuckled, but Mickey wasn't laughing.

"When you went to Afghanistan," he continued, "I spent nearly every day in that damned store looking in the papers and checkin' online to see if you'd been killed. Then when I found out you'd come home, somehow I kidded myself into thinking you'd come and find me. That I still meant something to you."

Ian shifted slightly in his seat, surprised and moved by this abrupt and curse-free honesty.

"When I heard about you getting married, I think that's when I lost it. I used Mandy as an excuse to get back in contact with your brother, because I just wanted to hear any news about you that I could, but Lip was so fuckin' tight-lipped – yeah sorry about the pun – he never mentioned you at all."

Ian was wide-eyed at the confesstion. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure he thought you deserved to get over me. I guess even Lip thought I'd married Vicki on the rebound."

"And did you?" Mickey looked hopeful.

"I... I guess..."

Mickey shook his head, "It's not important. Like I said, I lost it. I started going out a _lot_, ended up with a shit-ton of random guys," Ian inwardly cringed, "just because I needed to _feel_ something. It was just so fuckin' _empty_ though. I just missed you. I guess you never forget your first."

_That_ through Ian for a loop. "Whoa. Wait. What?! What are you telling me?"

"Come on, Gallagher. You know what I'm saying." Mickey actually looked a little embarrassed.

Ian shook his head in disbelief. "You're telling me... I was your first?"

"Well, not counting girls – second technically. I don't count the actual first one though – he was just a means to an end." Mickey looked right at Ian. "I mean, he wasn't _you_, you know?"

Ian could actually feel his chest started to ache – in a really good way. He figured the feeling was pride. He was searching for the right words to say when Mickey interrupted his thoughts.

"I don't what you're being so quiet for. It's not like you were Mr I'm-So-Experienced when we started up."

"No!" Ian grabbed his arm. "No. That's not it. That's not what I'm thinking. Not at all. _Believe_ me."

He pulled Mickey towards him and into a tight hug. He realised he was still naked, but he couldn't mind being so vulnerable. Not when Mickey was doing the same. He nuzzled into Mickey's neck for warmth, and inhaled deeply.

"Hmm. Maybe we should take a shower," Ian suggested and as he said the words his phone started to ring.

Mickey glanced at it where it lay face down on the floor by the couch. "Just ignore it."

After six rings, it rang off, but started again almost immediately.

"Shit. I'd better get it," Ian reached for the phone and Mickey sat up reaching and passing Ian's shirt to him.

"Hello?" There was silence in the room apart from Ian's acknowledgement of whoever was on the other end. When he hung up, he pulled his shirt on.

"Well?"

Ian looked a little unsure. "That was Fiona," he said. "Reese had the baby."


	20. Chapter 20

Mickey blinked slowly.

"Mickey?"

Mickey shook his head slightly, "Yeah, I heard you. Congratulations."

"Fiona asked me to go visit them in the hospital," Ian explained, "She's stuck at work and can't get hold of Deb. Everyone else is in school."

"Okay." Mickey nodded.

"Mickey?" Ian said again.

Mickey was chewing his lip. "What?"

Ian took hold of Mickey's face and turned it towards him. "Are you going to come with me?" Ian asked.

Mickey's eyebrows shot up. "What?! No. Why the fuck would I come with you?"

"Because they're your friends? And if this," he gestured between them, "is going to be a thing - and God I really hope this time it is - then you're actually going to be a part of this kid's life."

"Like an uncle," Mickey clarified. "I can deal. I probably won't even see it much. Kids really ain't my thing."

"Him. It's a boy. Dillon."

"Oh."

"So. You're okay with that?"

"Look," Mickey turned his body fully to face Ian, "It's Lip and Reese you need to think about. I don't think they expected me to still be around when the baby came, you know? Let alone living under the same fuckin' roof." Then more to himself, "Shit. I gotta get my stuff out of there."

Ian nodded. "I'll help you."

"I just don't want them thinking I want anything from them. Or that I'm going to do anything to fuck it up for them. That's not... it's _their_ kid. I'm nothing to do with it. Him. I just wanted them to be happy. Somebody had to be fuckin' happy."

"_We're_ happy, Mickey." Ian gripped Mickey's shoulder. "Right?"

Mickey put a hand on top of Ian's and squeezed. "Tell them congrats from me."

* * *

**_Mickey POV_**

**_Mickey left the house at the same time as Ian, mindful of the need to get back to Lip's and start clearing all his crap out of the house. Not that he had much to pack up. Ian's offer of help was a welcome one and it would make the process go faster for sure, but all Mickey could think was "_What next? What the fuck do we do now?"**

**_Now he was finally free of his asshole dad, he knew they actually had a chance to make a go of things, but neither of them had a place to live or jobs worth a damn. What did the future hold for an ex-con and an ex-soldier?_**

**_But as he had followed Ian out of the front door, Ian had turned and gently circled Mickey's wrist with his long fingers, pressing a kiss to his lips, and for the first time in his life, Mickey hadn't felt the need to stop him, or been worried because they were in full view of the neighbours, and as his eyes closed for those few seconds, _****_he realised t_**hat actually he didn't give a shit.

**_It had been a long wait, but he finally had a chance to get it right and he wasn't going to fuck it up this time._ ******

**_He had leaned into the kiss, and when it was over and Ian had turned and trotted away, grinning, down the porch steps, Mickey had touched his tattooed fingers to his lips and just... savoured the moment._**

* * *

Ian liked hospitals. Sure he'd some shitty experiences with them in the past, what with Monica slitting her wrists - which he counted as one of the most traumatic events of his teenage years - and the _other_ time someone gave birth which turned out to be less than a blessing.

Plus there were more episodes with Frank than he cared to remember - and Frank probably _couldn't_ remember – but he still believed that hospitals were a good place to be, especially since he'd seen more than his fair share of people dying from their injuries by roadsides and in vehicles because nobody had the proper supplies or equipment to help them.

He found himself in the maternity ward staring through the huge window at a room full of portable cots full of babies with little pink and blue hats, and he smiled. He thought briefly of Vicki. They'd never discussed children and now he was thankful for it. It was one less thing he had to worry about letting her down.

He let his eyes drift around the room, trying to figure out which one might be Lip's new son. As he turned slightly to look in one direction, he felt someone nudge him.

"He's over here," Lip was indicating in the other direction.

They took a few steps and Lip pointed towards a cot, where a small, sleeping bundle was swaddled tightly in blankets, a little blue beanie hat on his head. Ian squinted at the sign on the cot which read _Dillon Mason Gallagher._

"Great name," Ian said, without moving.

"Thanks, man." Lip replied.

There was silence for a few moments, neither of them looking each other. They just kept looking at the baby. Like maybe if they kept staring at him, everything would be alright and all the uncomfortable tension between them could be forgotten.

Lip spoke first. "Look Ian-"

"Not now, Lip. Please," Ian stopped him, "It's okay."

Lip turned to face his brother. His right cheek had a yellowing bruise from Ian's punch and Ian cringed.

"No, it's _not_ okay. I said some shitty things. You wanted answers and I just fucking hurled abuse at you."

"Hey! No cursing around the babies!" Ian admonished. "And no. Actually you only said what I needed to hear. Guess I just needed someone to drive the point home."

Lip's eyes widened in mock surprise, "Huh! So I was right?"

Ian rolled his eyes, "Yeah, yeah!"

"Good. And next time maybe can you not drive _your _point home with your fist in my face?" Lip joked. Then, off Ian's reaction he put his hands up in apology, "Sorry! Sorry."

Ian smiled, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans, "You actually don't have anything to apologise for. Well, maybe for avoiding me for so long, but I understand why everyone did what they did. You don't owe me any explanations."

"As long as things are okay," Lip raised his eyebrows in a question. "I never wanted to screw things up for you. I just wanted to do right by my family and I got a little short-sighted for a while there."

Ian smiled at the mention of the word "family." Family was the most important thing to the Gallaghers and it always had been, and now Lip had a family of his own. "I get it. I really do." He clapped a hand on Lip's shoulder. "I'm so happy for you. Both of you. Seriously. He's amazing."

"Right?" Lip's mouth turned up at the corner into a grin.

Ian could see, just by looking at him, that Lip finally had the child he'd been waiting for for a decade, and it'd filled the little void in his heart that had been missing since Karen stole a piece of it.

Lip slung his arm around Ian's shoulders, pulling him into a sort of side hug. "He's everything I ever wanted."

Ian grinned and looked at his brother, fixing him with a meaningful look.

"Yeah," he said, "I know _exactly_ what you mean."


	21. Epilogue

Epilogue

Ian's moan echoed across the pitch as he came. Flushed, he loosened his grip on Mickey's waist.

"Well. That was different," he half-laughed, as his heart-rate started to level out again.

Mickey was still breathing hard from exertion. "Yeah." He rubbed the hand that wasn't holding himself up over his face, wiping off the sweat and flicking it away, droplets splattering over the second-base plate.

"This doesn't make me _your_ bitch now. Just so you know," Ian said with as much post-orgasm mocking as he could muster, as Mickey pulled out.

Mickey playfully punched him in the stomach, causing Ian to double up, laughing, as Mickey rolled away, pulling off the condom and slinging it.

"Just 'cause I prefer not to do it, doesn't mean I _never_ do," he said, lighting up a cigarette and taking a drag.

"Oh I know," Ian nodded, "I remember that first time." He reached and took the cigarette from Mickey's mouth, a smile forming at how Mickey just let him take it now - no complaints when his fingers grazed Mickey's lips.

"Oh yeah," Mickey grinned wide at the memory. "You were definitely my bitch _that_ day!"

Blowing out a stream of smoke, Ian rolled over to face Mickey. "You wish, Milkovich!"

He poked Mickey in the side. Mickey flinched and let out a distinctly unmanly yelp. Both men laughed as they wrestled with each other.

Ian threw the cigarette aside and pinned Mickey beneath him, latching his teeth into the soft part of Mickey's neck where it joined his shoulder. Mickey let out a hiss and tilted his head back to let Ian get better access.

Ian sucked a mark into Mickey's skin, "Now you're _mine_." He murmured against the bruise.

Mickey took hold of Ian's hair pulling him up to kiss him, and even though he was the smaller of the two, he managed to flip them so he was on top. He licked into Ian's mouth for a moment, tasting.

Gripping Ian's face gently with his tattooed hand he tilted his jaw upwards and nipped lightly along Ian's jawline. As he did so, he glanced at the "FUCK" on his knuckles and recalled telling Ian once before that he was fucked for life. It was true. He had been completely fucked as soon as Ian Gallagher had come barging into his bedroom with a tire iron. Once he was in your system, there was no getting him out and there was nothing Mickey would or could change about it. Fucked for life, but in the best possible way.

He moved his head down to Ian's neck, pressing kisses to the skin there at which point the kiss was interrupted by a low chuckle erupting from low in Ian's throat.

"Way to spoil the romance, Gallagher." Mickey huffed, pulling back.

Something in that sentence made Ian start to laugh harder.

"What the _fuck _are you laughing at?"

Between bouts of near-hysterics, Ian managed to get out, "I think I just saw a shooting star!" his voice laced with a sort of sarcastic glee.

"What are you talking about?" Mickey looked pissed as he lit up another cigarette, and took a long drag.

Still heaving with laughter, Ian pointed down at what they were lying on.

When they'd arrived at the baseball pitch – for old times' sake - Ian had brought the beers and Mickey had brought condoms, lube, his attitude... and a blanket.

Mickey looked down at the moth-eaten graying blanket, that was ruched up beneath them. "Yeah? So? You think I'm getting down on my knees on the home plate without something under them, you got another thing coming- what is so fuckin' funny?!"

Ian was laughing so hard now that tears were actually starting to spill onto his cheeks. Mickey took another drag from his cigarette and pitched it away, sparks flying, then he clambered over Ian's body, straddling him and pinning him down.

"Tell me, Gallagher, before I fuckin' force it out of you."

Ian's laughter subsided, and after a few deep breaths to compose himself, he asked, "You don't remember then?"

"Remember what?" Mickey sat back on his heels.

Doing his best impression of Mickey, Ian said "'You wanna spread out a blanket and look for shooting stars?'" He was smiling now, waiting for Mickey to respond.

A slow, smug grin of recollection spread across Mickey's face. "Over there, right?" He pointed over his shoulder toward the dugout.

Ian nodded, "Right after you made me shotgun that beer with you, and I almost choked on the foam."

"Oh yeah." Mickey sniggered, "Then I made you choke on something else, right?"

"Jesus Mickey, you're still so disgusting!" Ian laughed, his blush obvious even in the darkness.

"_You_ still love it," Mickey replied, still smirking, "I think we've proved _that_ much." He flicked one of Ian's ears which were now as red as his face.

Ian couldn't disagree, "Yeah okay, I guess some things don't change."

"Well, now you see, _Ian_, that's not true." Mickey was serious now, leaning over Ian again, holding himself up on his forearms, their faces level. He looked into Ian's eyes. "A _lot_ can change when you get something back that you thought you'd never have again."

"Yeah, you got that right." Ian replied, and wrapping his hand around Mickey's neck, he pulled their mouths together.

**_fin_**


End file.
